


Black-Winged Icarus

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Σελήνη καί Ἄρης - Peregrineshipping [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Brotherly Love, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Getting to Know Each Other, Major Character Injury, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Possible Character Death, Protective Siblings, Rebellion, Revolution, Slow Burn, Suspense, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-09-06 04:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 70,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20285782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: In a world where the population is split between four cultures in the form of the Factions, one tribe is trying to reverse it all. In the midst of it wake up two young people – a former soldier of the dominant force of the land, Academia, and a renegade who got tricked by the enemy he had sworn to destroy – in a mysterious labyrinth: the Daedalus. Forced to cooperate to escape, put through trial after trial, there is nothing they have left to lose but their freedom. Only time and their determination, however, could tell where this would be going for them.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> MY BRAINCHILD IS HERE  
Ahem, I should be serious about it.
> 
> Welcome to Black-Winged Icarus. As it stands, this story is already finished, with only a few edits here and there from my initial draft. This story will be divided in 13 "Acts", each composed of three chapters, with a Prologue and an Epilogue to make it 41 chapters. Each Act will be posted on a Saturday from now, with all three chapters posted at once for easier following of the storyline.  
The story is obviously Peregrineshipping-centric, but a lot of other characters will share the limelight with them, including Ruri (who is mentioned here in the Prologue already, in fact). I can't say too much without spoiling myself, as the Prologue only introduces the main setting. 
> 
> Some decisions featured there may make little sense, here and in the future, until you'll read more of it. This story is filled with twists and turns, which I hope will make you want to read more each week as you follow the characters' lives and thoughts. It will be a ride for you readers, this much I promise.
> 
> Don't forget to also check out the awesome cover my friend Nano made for this story as a commission from me!  
https://nano-the-wolfpard.tumblr.com/post/187053028367/a-peregrineshipping-shun-x-selena-commission-for

For the first time in her life, she woke up to pure whiteness _and_ someone else’s breathing. Taken separately, those two things would have _never_ seemed out of the ordinary for her; combined, however, they formed a unique experience that she had never desired, not even in her strangest fever dreams.

Waking up was rough, for once. Her surroundings were entirely foreign to her, reminding her of nothing but the infirmary she had landed in a few times before, but only of this, and even then, she’d have first heard her own breathing, not someone she didn’t inhaling and exhaling. Perhaps had she gotten too used to waking up alone, a right she had earned for herself when she had shown herself to be an excellent soldier.

She could scratch that, though. There was nothing about her that was a soldier anymore, aside from her instincts and techniques, maybe her spirit if she focused on that enough. A soldier that had been retrograded, publicly had her medals and titles shattered in front of a martial court and the entire faction’s eyes, only to be sentenced to death in the same hour was nothing more than a dysfunctional, _disposable_ tool for the army.

So, sure thing, she was used to waking up in rooms whose air was filled with loneliness and a sense of emptiness. Rising to her knees, then feet, the background of an unknown headache immediately starting to grow on her, her eyes only saw that: white. White, and shades of pale greys – in short, nothing but tints of darkened white. Like the wings which had been torn away from her body with bloodied hooks, in a way: they were tainted, wherever they were now. Perhaps in somebody’s trashcan, at the time she was thinking to this, most likely incinerated in the garbage disposer.

Come to think of it… Wasn’t she supposed to be dead? Academia’s prison cells didn’t look like that at all… as far as she remembered seeing these, at least. They usually were painted dark purple or, the colour of the enemy, obsidian black. Quartz white was also a thing, or so she thought at the very least, but she had no real proof to show herself to make that a certain thing. Oh well, not like she cared. The room she was currently in didn’t even share its colours with what she had in mind. Did it mean that she had died? Oh, great. Really, great… Should have she not been this indiscreet with her plan to betray Academia, she may have been able to do what a late friend hadn’t been able to do.

Losing him still hurt, but the sting had long stopped bothering her. She had moved on, like he’d have if she had died in his place. That was how Academia had taught them to be and, in this context of war, this was the only way to survive.

However, she sure felt alive, for someone who was supposed to be dead. She could easily feel her breath heating her wrist’s skin when she exhaled. She could pat her arms and legs, notice her scars still decorated her lap and forearms, reminding her that she was nothing but Academia’s broken weapon it had hesitated to dispose of. She was nothing short of breathing, moving and thinking. This wasn’t a weird kind of purgatory dressed as a paradise coming for whatever sins she had committed as Academia’s toy.

A strange bracelet had been put on her wrist, with a screen inserted inside of it, displaying what had to, without a doubt, be her prisoner label, her number, her new name.

_FSN2_.

Broken assets were nothing but files on a computer, after all: she was very predictably going to be renamed after some numbers and letters arranged in one way or the other, after naming conventions like she was some particle scientists had just found and hadn’t gotten the time to give a name to before it ought to be revealed to the public. FSN1 had to have been her friend: Academia soldiers never rebelled, knowing what expected them; yet he did, and she did in his footsteps, which in turn had made them the test subjects they now were (or had been, in his case).

At least, the distant smell of antiseptics and the blinding whites of the room inspired her the atmosphere of a laboratory like she had seen on TV as a child and on screens as a soldier.

As she got up, she noticed she truly wasn’t alone: on her right, also equipped with a bracelet similar to hers, was a boy around her age, lankier and taller, green-haired, a red scarf tied around his neck. The feeling stinging her as soon as she noticed that was only confirmed by his attire, a partially torn purple trench coat with worn-out black jeans and a grey shirt. He didn’t look so good either. In fact, she was sure of it, she’d have most likely been able to see his ribs if he had been bare chest. As it stood, it was merely a hunch, and a useless hunch of that.

_An Xyz remnant_ was the first thing to come to her mind, obviously. She wasn’t exactly happy that the first person she was seeing in such a place was the enemy she had fought off for so long, before repressing the thought of seeing this guy as her enemy. She was now as hated of Academia than he was, if not more, so there was no place for her to be this petty. Instead, she focused on why this guy was reminding her of something, of a not-so-distant memory he was alluding to inside her mind…

Right as she found herself staring at him a bit too intensely, he started stirring in his sleep and, soon enough, she could see his golden eyes flip open, immediately filled with rage. Unlike her, he took only a couple seconds to get up and get going, taking an offensively defensive stance as he faced her, clearly not welcoming of her. Great, just great. Sure, they were technically on opposite sides, but they were stuck in the same place and, judging by his own bracelet, were very much in identical predicaments. Was he a test subject too?

“You…” She didn’t know what tone to adopt. She was a fighter, not a diplomat. “You’re awake, huh…”

He stared right at her with a piercing death stare.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault if you’re here, we’re stuck in this mess together, so don’t start treating me like I’m the enemy.”

He looked around, didn’t say anything, then stared back at her, still keeping this utter, really unneeded hostility in his gaze. Really pleasant to be around, huh?

“…You’re Fusion.”

“Used to.”

“_Used_ _to_?” He repeated, stretching her words out, a frown deeply set in his features. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Fusion never stops being Fusion.”

“You’re wrong! It’s not like —”

A siren started blaring, its cacophony causing her ears to ring. It was her usual dose of deafening noise, the one she had been served every morning, every lunch and every dinner since she had been condemned by the martial court, just made even louder. It had only lasted for a couple days – three, at most –, yet it remained a sore spot, nagging at her fallen pride and dishonour in the eyes of her own people. Maybe that guy was right, in a sense: if she was to regain her prestige, maybe she could through with it. The thing was, she still wanted to prove him wrong; as such, she shook her head and unplugged her hands from her ears once the siren had stopped blaring, now noticing they had still let her keep her favourite fingerless gloves. A minor comfort, she supposed.

“Welcome to the Daedalus, young lady, young man,” a male voice, familiar yet foreign enough for her not to exactly being able to put a name or a face on it, resonated across the empty blank spaces around them. The other guy didn’t seem more pleased than she was about it either.

“Who the fuck are you?!” He asked, fists in balls to his sides. “Show yourself!”

He seemed impatient, like he couldn’t stand two minutes in the same spot before imploding or exploding (or maybe both). This was going to be tough.

“He won’t respond to you,” she forced herself to sound calm. “It’s a recording.”

The guy only gritted his teeth harder (yes, that was apparently possible) as a response. He even lacked the self-discipline not to let her hear the frustrated sounds his clenched jaw produced…

“Tch.”

“You are now part of a game meant to test your resilience and capacities. At the end of it, you will get your most prized wishes and regain what you have lost. However, to reach this, you will need to find the exit of the Daedalus, of this white labyrinth wrapped all around you like a venomous snake surrounds its prey. Are you ready to face this challenge?”

(“_As if I had a choice in the matter_,” the guy scoffed under his breath).

(“_As if you had asked for my opinion before putting me there during my sleep_,” she kept to herself).

“We shall start by introducing the both of you to each other. You have most likely,” (yep, had been a recording all along, her instincts were never wrong), “just woken up and haven’t started an actual conversation yet,” (they _knew_ the two of them weren’t going to get along, these scumbags). “So, we may as well do the job for you, as a way to break the ice off between two strangers. We hope you can get along with this little help from us, as you will have to do so to get out of there”.

Here was what she had been preparing herself to hear. Of course she’d have to partake in some death game with some douchebag who couldn’t _not_ stare at her like she was the devil’s incarnate, even when they were trapped in the same conditions and stupidly sadistic ordeal. This was going to be a pain in more ways than one, that was more than certain.

“FSN2, Selena Tsukimori. You were one of Academia’s elite soldiers,” (in the corner of her eye, his cold, heinous stare), “before you betrayed your own and got disgraced by the military council, like your comrade FSN1 before you,” (he had a _name_ and that was _Sora_, you _bastards_). “A shame, really, but you merely brought it upon yourself”.

Ah, yes, Academia’s moralizing tendencies. She hadn’t exactly missed those.

“You yearn for your freedom, which you have lost after your trial. However, we of Academia have given you the opportunity to be forgiven and recover your lost rights. Reach the end of the labyrinth and find the exit to the Daedalus, and you shall be free and forgiven by Academia and your people.”

They had guessed her goals, although it couldn’t have been much harder than reading someone’s curriculum vitae: that was the only thing she could’ve wanted from them. She wasn’t naïve enough to think they’d give it back to her without forcing her back into their ranks, which wouldn’t giving her back her liberty at all; but it’d give her an opportunity to punch them and get away with it, after all, and that was all she needed for now. It wasn’t like she had any other option or wish: she already wanted to exit the suffocating feeling of the white walls around her.

“You see yourself as a seeker of justice and of what is truly right. As such, you once served Academia and their noble goals, until one day, during a mission, you decided the way Academia handled the Xyz issue was not the right one and, in consequence, tracked your own path. After getting found out and sentenced to death for high treason, you became the shame of the Fusion Faction, something we give you an exit from. Will you follow your own path and dig your grave inside the walls of the labyrinth, or come back on the right path and return to Academia?”

The guy’s stare didn’t let go of her, projecting what could have only been his thousands of grudges against the world and society altogether, even with that all let out before his eyes. If even the truth, albeit with some “corrections” (yeah, she’d call them that, _“corrections”_), and the clear pressure put on her betraying shoulders wasn’t enough to make him be in her favour, then he was a lost cause.

Her survival odds had never been this low.

The recording continued before she could add anything, if silence hadn’t been what she had wanted to preach in the first place.

“XYZ3, Shun Kurosaki.” (That name gave her that feeling of having forgotten about something important again). “You are one of the leaders of the rogue movement named the Resistance and, as such, one of its most important figures. Because of this, you became a target of justice and continued fleeing from the Obelisk Forces meant to apprehend you. You finally got imprisoned when trying to illegally invade Academia’s headquarters, and subsequently got trialled to the capital sentence.”

Oh, so _he_ was the infamous Kurosaki whose head her former colleagues had desired so much. His attitude and physique fitted the description of a stone-hearted freedom fighter to a T, no doubt there. His face must have been shown in a propaganda campaign a couple hundred times, before suddenly disappearing, replaced with the face of two other dudes.

“You yearn for your freedom too, desperate to go against the rules applied on your people, but also your comrades’ amnesty. If you manage to make it out of here, respecting the rules of the Daedalus, you will gain Academia’s forgiveness of them. Would you fail, you will never see the face of your precious XYZ2 again.”

(“_Give her back_,” she heard him mutter to himself. “_Give her freedom back to Ruri_”. Selena didn’t know what to make out of it, even if it made sense for them to use someone dear to him to force him into acting for their twisted plans. She could only assume this Ruri was the one designated by that derogatory “XYZ2”).

“Much like FSN2, you see yourself as someone bringing justice to the world, when all you’re doing is spreading chaos around. You joined the Resistance to go against the rules and the harmony of the world ensured by Academia, making yourself and your group to be martyrs of the law. In that, you have succeeded to rise some uproar amidst your faction yet failed to protect yourself, leaving your guard open. As one of the most high-profile criminals of the past years, it would be of the upmost risk to release you, but Academia believes in forgiveness. Would you reach the exit of the Daedalus, you would be forgiven for your crimes and your friends would be freed, all in exchange of your allegiance to Academia. Will you reach the end?”

(“_I’d rather **die** than serve you_,” he grunted).

“The rules of the game are simple. Go through the rooms laid before you, solve the puzzle they contain, and continue. The bracelets around your wrists are there to keep you in check, as you will only be able to sleep and eat in resting rooms, which you will enter after finishing a room containing a puzzle. At the end of the path is the exit to the Daedalus, where all your promises will be met. However, must you fail to solve the puzzle of one of rooms, or break any rule, and the bracelet around your wrist will inject a lethal poison into your veins.”

A pause.

“The game starts now.”

And the siren blasted again.

“Let’s go,” she said, almost more to herself than to him.

With that, she was officially entering a game that, most likely, would result in a life-or-death situation at one point or the other. What had to be done to recover her liberty would be done. Not that she had a choice in the matter. She wouldn’t give him the option to bail out on her either.


	2. Act I, Scene 1: Ergonomic Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_She was no warrior going against the system and succeeding at it. She was just a fool, the biggest of fools._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C'mon, you knew I'd try to squeeze some belligerant sexual tension between these two. It was a given and I'm sure the reason why some of you are here.  
The title comes from one of my favorite MASA Works Design songs, if not my absolute favorite. There's just something to it that always reminds me of Peregrineshipping. I had to, considering the conflictual tone of this chapter.

The door lead to another strange room, albeit almost identical in aesthetics to the one they came from: white walls, white floor, white door on the other side, but a giant gap in its midst and, bizarrely floating in the air left there by the hole, light-blue platforms. No other noise to be heard than their footsteps, Kurosaki’s self-whispered swearing and their breathing. Not out of the ordinary for Academia, even if she wasn’t certain of what the hell the meaning of all of this was.

“That’s what they call a “trial”, huh,” she remarked out loud, trying to get Kurosaki’s attention even if he was busier insulting every single thing Academia had ever been all about. “Let’s get through it quickly so we can reach the next room and get out of this hole.”

Kurosaki didn’t verbally reply, but he quickly stared at her and continued walking. Obviously, the rudest invitation to follow him to the gap to see what the hell really was up with it.

Sure enough, the platforms seemed like they just… floated. They defied gravity like it had never been an issue. The gap itself only gave view on pure darkness, with no ground in sight. If she had a rock, Selena would have thrown it to check how deep it was, but she had no rock and was certain a fall this high could only result in death. That known and understood, there was no doubt about it: the solution was somewhere else, as much as it bothered her.

Jumping across the gap seemed like a good idea, until she simply couldn’t tell if that’d make her fall into the hole even faster if she missed the jump, if her foot slipped, or even miscalculated the length that she’d need to go through in one bounce. It just wasn’t realistically possible to face the problem this way. She had to find an alternative.

Right, these platforms. They had to be the key of the puzzle, right? It seemed a bit too easy, coming from Academia, but they only were on what was technically the first test… It’d be strange for them to willingly put in lethal risk to their very first room. The rest would have been for nothing, no? Well, she could always try. It didn’t cost anything to do something rather than being like Kurosaki and contemplate the floating blue things for ages like it’d change anything to them or fix the problem for them. Truly, she had to act alone and drag him around; but she was determined to do that if it meant getting back her freedom and punching someone in the abdomen for her lost time and death sentence.

So, she got prepared. She heated up her knees and leg muscles in case she had to make an emergency jump. She made sure her pelvis was ready for sharp turns. Compared to usual, she had the time to actually prepare herself for an operation, so she may as well have profited from the opportunity. There was nothing like being fully ready for something, especially if that thing was life-threatening. Would she dare say it, there even was some adrenaline pumping in her vessels from the thrill of facing an unusual kind of danger.

There were two rows of platforms in front of her: one completely going to the end of the gap and an incomplete one. The last platform would most likely be too far from the ledge for her to jump from it to the other side, but she may have as well tried: at worst, she could join back the other side with the other row. That’d let him traverse to the exit safely too: it was a winning plan, and all that was left was putting it into action, and that was what she did without a second thought.

The platforms themselves weren’t far from the ledge she was standing on or from each other, so all she had to do was to merely step on them. Was it too easy to be true? No, not really. The idea was to find the fact she couldn’t just jump across the ledge and had to instead rely on trusting Academia, right? That was already enough for her to play mind games with them, they better make it simple for her.

As agile as she had always been, Selena crossed from platform to platform with ease. This was going to be a piece of cake. Everything was going according to plan. All she had to do was to join back the complete trail and…

“Hey, stop right there!”

That guy just remembered how to speak? Great. It’d be less like talking to a wall and more like talking to a defunct TV screen. What a _change_.

“What is it?!”

“You really don’t see it, do you? Look behind you!”

Listening to someone who didn’t bother with her, Selena turned around, only to notice the route she had taken until then had disappeared while she hadn’t been staring at it. So that had been the trap all along… Only one of them could go to the end. She had, essentially, locked her chances to escape alive and, because every war had its indirect casualties, condemned Kurosaki to stay behind to die. For an elite soldier, that was nothing short of a sloppy job. She could already envision herself getting a harsh scolding from her superiors for that, harmless training or not.

But this wasn’t harmless training, and she didn’t know which one hurt the most. Condemning herself was one thing, it was entirely on her fault and she’d be the only one to suffer the consequences, but condemning someone else because she hadn’t been careful? Now that was another problem altogether. How were they going to reach the end of the labyrinth, now? They had to be together, so she couldn’t exactly tell him to find his own way out as she jumped on the other platforms.

“Ah, fuck! What are we going to do, now?!”

The “sorry” she oh so wanted to tell him had gotten caught in her throat and didn’t want to exit it: did people apologize to walls they had punched a hole into? Instead, she bit her thumb.

“Listen, don’t do any stupid shit, stay where you are and don’t move! I’ll find a way out of this mess!”

For what felt like the first time, Selena was paralyzed with shame. She had stepped headfirst into some easy-bait trap laid right before her by the ones who had always known her the most. In the end, she was still their tool, no more than their property, and her handcuffs only got stronger from that, weighting even more, the chains losing length right before her eyes. And, thanks to her bold _stupidity_, she may have locked the solution from the both of them. All of this because she had been too proud to evaluate her decisions and think for more than two minutes.

She was no warrior going against the system and succeeding at it.

She was just a _fool_, the _biggest_ of fools.

Meanwhile, Kurosaki shone in his own darkness. Instead of the angry frown he had worn until then, he was contemplative, eyes fixated on the platforms with some vagueness in their shine. His calm side was piercing through his rage and, frankly, if he hadn’t looked this hostile towards her until then, she’d have been able to believe he really meant to save her and not just his own skin.

On another hand and second thought, there was a paradox in this very thought. If she was just a side thing, why was he bent on having her wait in this spot, of “finding a solution” and not just save his own skin? He knew what he had to do, right? Why did she suddenly seem to matter in his calculations? God was this dude contradictory that it was dizzying. He had no reason to give the littlest damn about her either, especially if he was this aggressive and hold such a grudge against her faction of origin. This made no sense.

To be fair, she had herself yelled “what are _we_ going to do”, when all she had to do was step to the row next to hers and resume her path, leaving him behind, but surviving.

Kurosaki eventually settled for a course of action and began stepping on the platforms himself, revealing what she had been too blind to notice by herself: ground dissolving right under his feet, never phasing him, starting to disappear as soon as his shoe didn’t touch them anymore. He looked like a master at what he was doing, as though he had already gone through such a trial in his life, like nothing could fool him. His pace felt controlled, neither slow nor quick, stable despite the sudden changes in his tracks.

In that moment, he was more of a soldier, of a _warrior_, than she was. To think a civilian like him had become such a hardened warrior released doubtful fumes: how was the situation in his group for him to be this used to life-and-death situations? He she only seen the visible part of a much deeper, darker iceberg? Had she been right all along to betray Academia as soon as she possibly could have? It seemed so, but doubts had to remain until she could ensure herself that she was safe. Who knew what other traps awaited them in the shadows of the unknown?

Kurosaki eventually reached her position on the row next to his, then looked at her. His gaze wasn’t as furious as it was before she started traversing the gap, and while she lacked the exact words to describe it, it remained fierce and determined, but had somewhat calmed down. Relying on reading people’s feelings through eyes had never been much of her thing, albeit Sora used to tell her she was amazing at it, and that must have been a joke, since Kurosaki’s eyes told her nothing about who he really was and what he was thinking. He must have been internally insulting her all along, though, this was a safe guess to make.

“Come here,” he told her. “I found a way out.”

“What way? What are you going to do, even? You’re not planning on pushing me into the void, right?”

“Do I look like I want to kill you?” He sounded pissed again, good job Selena, _good job_. “Just do as I say, we’re already knee-deep into bullshit because of you.”

Even if he had just wounded her pride, he wasn’t wrong in the slightest, so she stepped on the platform next to hers, until she noticed he was slightly crouched and almost on the edge of the one-person-sized space they now had to share. What was up with that?

“What are you waiting for? Climb on there and let me handle things. It’s _your_ fault if we need to do it that way.”

“Okay, okay, stop grumbling now, geez…”

Selena did as she was told, not without shame burning her cheeks out and poisoning her nerves, and she found herself in a nervous piggyback ride. If his intention was to humiliate her, then he had done a wonderful job at it. Not that it was any harsher than punishments she had gotten before, on second thoughts…

Now with her on his back, Kurosaki resumed his course, stepping from platform after platform, making her realize he had gotten the right guess: if they only were allowed to have two feet at a time on a space, all they had to do was to share one pair. Considering this, she’d have probably been able to carry him in her arms (not that she’d have ever _wished_ to do that), if the course of things hadn’t made her the fool of the two. This labyrinth escape was starting with a disaster, how hopeful…

Sure enough, they reached the other hand of the gap, safe and sound, as if nothing had ever threatened their chances to get there to begin with. They had unwillingly cooperated there, forced to do with stupid conditions, and yet they had survived the first trap. The door was open, they were going to be able to continue and, with chance, to escape this place sooner or later. In an objective perspective, this was a success.

However, even as she jumped down from his back, Selena still felt uneasy about the whole ordeal. That shouldn’t have happened. Her fatal flaw, as far as she was aware of it, had always been her impulses and instinct to rush into things: this merely was yet another demonstration of these. Changing her ways would be arduous, if not impossible, and truth be told, she had almost scrapped the possibility of that altogether before ending here; but the predicament she had found herself in forced her to adapt.

In the end, that may have been what Kurosaki had that she hadn’t gotten the chance to develop: the force to adapt.

And, for that, she could only respect him, if not envy his abilities.


	3. Act I, Scene 2: Rotten Cornucopia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SHUN]  
_“That has to be a joke. That can’t not be a fucking joke.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Shun-centric chapter, huh.  
It's shorter than Selena's because, frankly, I ran out of ideas that weren't writing pages upon pages of stream of consciousness. I hope it's fine with everybody: I feel like it's just the right length for what I wanted to convey through it.

“That _has_ to be a joke,” Shun told himself when he first stepped in the second room. “That _can’t_ not be a fucking joke,” he repeated.

That room was simple enough. Two beds, no separation between them, and what appeared to be a bathroom and a kitchen. They had thought to include basic necessity care, how _generous_ of them. Ruri was most certainly rotting in a cage right as he discovered that, unable to take care of herself properly, and yet they had included that for them. As if they needed to stay there for much longer than zero second. They were trying their hardest to strip them down of any dignity in the disguise of assuring their hygiene, weren’t they?

Everything in there smelled like the rest of the premise: antiseptics. Disgusting, sickening, expensive _antiseptics_. The smell was starting to make him nauseous, twisting his stomach as soon as he realized again and again this’d probably be the only thing he was going to be smelling for an indeterminate amount of time from now on. His reasons to get out of here as soon as possible were starting to pile up with no hope or answer in sight.

“Be content with that,” Tsukimori scolded him from across the small room as she checked the bathroom. “They could have just included some stones and tell us to sleep on that.”

“Because you’re going to lose time there? I thought you wanted to get out of here at the speed of sound.”

“They’re not going to free us today, so don’t get too restless. We’re here to _stay_.”

She didn’t make him want to speak to her any more than necessary. What a hypocrite.

Predictable, coming from someone from Fusion’s Academia.

And yet, he had to recognize it, she had a point. It’d be beyond weird for these _bastards_ to give them rooms to rest if they could just speed through the rooms they had spoken about. Academia was composed of twisted minds and despicable assholes, they ought to have had trump cards upon trump cards up their bloodied sleeves. There was no kindness, generosity or respect at Academia, only contempt and primitive bloodthirst.

On second thought, what did he know about Academia that she didn’t? He knew their rotten codes and acts more than she could have, considering she had been the insider who had most likely investigated some of the raids his people had been through (including children and the elderly, that was without question, why would sparing some persons do good for them?). Nonetheless, and he hated to admit it, Tsukimori knew much more about Academia’s underbelly that he possibly could have: she had been part of its elite. She had to have been aware of some information he couldn’t get access to.

So he _would_ have to rely on her, in some form. Now that was just _great_. Relying on someone he couldn’t tell the honesty of? Someone who could betray him if that meant getting out of there and joining forces with his enemy again? Someone whom he could never fully trust? That was just yet another thorn in his already bleeding sides.

Even then, despite knowing it’d most certainly be useless, he decided to try and open the door with an “EXIT” sign over it. Speculations weren’t enough: they had to be proven one way or the other. He also didn’t believe in just explaining things through words and formulas, because these didn’t save lives, only actions did. Explaining an illness had never been enough to vanquish it: curing it was what mattered.

The door didn’t bulge.

To that, he retained a flow of insults. Ranting about things wouldn’t make them progress any further, only actions could. Actions that, currently, he couldn’t go through with. They were forcing him out of his only options.

Trapped in a cage, Shun went to one of the beds and sat on it, unable to do much more than just sit there and wait for that damn door to open. He had nothing else to do than wait around, frankly: he didn’t feel like forcing himself to talk to Tsukimori (what would they have even talked about? How much they didn’t want to work with each other? Yeah, sure, that was going to make things less painful _for sure_), he didn’t feel hungry, he didn’t feel like taking off his last pieces of armour (while perfectly acknowledging he’d have to, eventually, but not before _she_ was asleep), he didn’t feel like doing anything that wasn’t powering through these “trials” and show them who was going to overthrow their dictatorship eventually. He was tired of getting watched and assaulted by some crusty-ass douchebags who had never set a foot outside of their precious little houses and whom he didn’t even know the faces off. These guys weren’t generals: they were just bureaucrats and aristocrats using other people as fodder and his people’s suffering as both a source of amusement and a way to get away with their little needs. Give people bread and games, money has no smell, even when that smell is the iron stench of _blood_.

There had to be someone watching Tsukimori and him go through these rooms, right? There was a camera not too far from the beds, right above the door. There had to be someone who was enjoying seeing him search desperately for his companions and freedom in a world where he had none of these anymore and was stuck with someone whose suffering, admittedly, must have entertained them too. They’d perhaps claim it had a cathartic effect, but the only catharsis he’d allow was his people’s and his. These guys had no claim to call anything a “catharsis”.

All he had left was falling asleep and stop thinking in silence to pass the time until the door opened. Alas, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon either: the camera’s cold stare was too close, too present for him not to get weary of it. Oppression had taught him to be careful to everything, not to let himself get any vulnerable nor show any flaw within himself, even if fatigue was weighing on his eyelids or if his stomach was screaming for dire help. Even with a throat parched in acid or broken bones, he’d keep on, he’d show himself to be strong and invincible.

He’d shatter everything standing in his way with an iron fist and the force of a thousand men, of the companions he had lost and those he was still searching for, taking the handle of a leader if he needed to. They wouldn’t get the best of him, even if for that he had to dirty his hands and soul, even if he had to make a pact with the devil and collaborate with who was, technically, still his foe.

Even though he had just declared himself as a lone vigilante, Shun watched Tsukimori across the room going through her hip pouch. He couldn’t really wrap his mind around her being the enemy, perhaps due to looking like so many people he had been the companion of, due to looking like _her_. It hurt, it made him feel safer, then it hurt again: this wasn’t Ruri. She’d never be Ruri. Ruri wasn’t there – she may have been dead all along – but that was also a lie. It was like looking at his sworn nemesis wearing the mask of the kindest person he knew, giving him an uncanny feeling about the ordeal he had forced himself to ignore until this moment.

Maybe that was why, despite his attempts at hating her and everything she was standing for (Academia training, Academia thinking, Academia morals, Academia _everything_), he couldn’t outright despise Tsukimori. Or maybe it was because he knew misery liked company, a company he was, despite himself, seeing in her and her resemblance to Ruri. In a way, they were allies because they seemed to share that common enemy, Academia.

Overthinking everything around him had never been Shun’s forte either, but it’d make for a distraction.


	4. Intermission I: Nightingale in a Golden Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [RURI]  
_Truly, miracles exist, and she only needed to wait for one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited about Ruri's character in this story! It's hard to imagine her canon personality from what the show has presented us with, but I've ran my mind through several headcanons and I hope you'll like my Ruri just as much as I like her! While I of course can't give too many details about her character in this story, she's going to be a key character throughout, this much I can promise.  
The switch to the present tense is on purpose and will apply to all Intermissions to distinguish them from the Scenes (which are about Selena and Shun). These "third chapters" will focus on other, "side" characters like Ruri or the other fellow whom you'll meet in a few moments.  
This Intermission focuses on a relationship that was never in Arc-V proper, so I'm excited to see what other people have to say about it!

Ruri is busy reading the red-lit writing on her high-security handcuff (looks like a bracelet, is actually a handcuff) for the twenty-seventh time of the day, featuring her prisoner code. It hasn’t changed wording, or font, or look whatsoever in the last few days. Not that guessing time has ever been her forte, far from it (she can still hear Shun tell her “it’s two in the afternoon. We should buy you a watch, someday”), but being imprisoned doesn’t exactly make it any better. What time is it, even?

“It’s seven in the evenin’,” a voice next to her cell catches her attention, masculine and yet not deep, almost like the chirp of an excited bird.

The sudden shift in things makes her head turn immediately towards the source of the sound: the guard, dressed in Academia’s uniform, a hat hiding what she can guess to be red hair from the loose strands escaping from under it. In that, he’s similar in all aspects to other guards she’s seen before, in and outside the prison, although there’s something different about him: the yellow marks running down his cheeks, starting from little triangles right under his waterlines.

He’s from the Synchro Faction, there’s no doubt about it. While she knew Synchro people were sometimes obligated to work for Academia due to poor financial backgrounds, she’s never met one occupying such a high-ranking position in the enemy’s ranks before. Seeing this soothes her worried mind, unsurprisingly: he can’t truly be against her if he can understand her people’s struggles. He isn’t Fusion-born, at least. That means he’s less dangerous, less harmful. And, honestly, he seems nice and friendly, like her friends from her own faction. (She misses Yuto, and Allen, and Sayaka, and Kaito…).

He’s grinning to her, not without confidence and with a dash of fox-like mischievousness, crouching to her level. Compared to everyone else she’s seen so far sent to watch over her, he also seems kind and welcoming, warm even. Maybe it’s a fluke, maybe it’s the right thing to think: for now, she’ll trust a man who, for some reason, kind of reminds her of her brother.

“Name’s Crow. I’m your new personal guard. Nice to meetcha!”

“Ah…” Ruri has no idea as to how she’s supposed to respond. “What do you mean by ‘my personal guard’?”

“I guess it’s not _that_ obvious…” He scratches the back of his head, still smiling. “I’ve been assigned to ya and, through a few loopholes, I’ve become your personal guard who you can talk to like a comrade! If you need proof, I can show that to you too.”

“What kind of proof?” She asks before she realizes she’s forgotten to precise a detail. “I won’t ever betray my comrades, so don’t even _try_ bribing me into doing so.”

He loses his grin, expressivity flatlining.

“Here, lemme show you.”

Crow takes off his hat, revealing spiky red hair, another hidden yellow mark on his forehead and, mostly importantly, what’s holding his haircut together: a red piece of tissue, serving as a headband.

“You… You’re part of the Resistance?!”

Ruri immediately slaps her hands on her mouth. What an idiot, she’s going to bust him to Academia if she screams too loudly! Shun’s taught her to be stealthy and quiet when in the enemy’s territory, she could at least remember the lesson and apply it…

“Don’t panic, they can’t hear us! We’ve got an ally in there, he took care of getting’ me here and mutin’ microphones and stuff. His name’s Yusho, I hope you can meet him one of these days, he’s a great guy.”

He sits against the bars of her cell, warm brown eyes gently looking at her. Despite the circumstances, she feels easy around him, like his arms can protect her from the dangers of Academia. If Shun’s missing, he’s there; and while Crow will never replace him in her heart and despite Shun’s flaws, he’s a comrade, a friend even, someone she feels like she can trust. This could be a mistake, but solitude has only brought her misery, and she’s eager to finally speak to someone who isn’t herself when nobody’s in hearing range.

“Hey, what about you tell me a bit ’bout ’cha? Your name’s Ruri Kurosaki, right? I haven’t been told much about ya, so could you tell me more ’bout yaself? Ya _can’t_ just some numbers written on your prisoner bracelet!”

To be honest, she hasn’t been asked to introduce herself in a long, long time, so the question takes her by surprise; yet it’s the best surprise she’s been graced with in an eternity, and as such, she takes the opportunity and runs with it. She can already hear Shun scold her for giving important personal information; but he’s a mole to Academia, she’s a prisoner, and it’s all fine in her book. She doesn’t need much more than this, she needs to follow her instinct and not Shun’s, sometimes.

“Well… I don’t really know what to tell you, or where to start! It’s so sudden…”

“Can I ask you some questions, then? It’ll be easier for you!”

“Sure, go for it…”

Launching his head backwards, hair piercing through the bars, Crow crosses his arms and puts on a smirk. If he truly isn’t acting, he seems almost as happy as she is to speak to her than she is to be able to talk with him, to _anyone_ she can have trust in.

“You’re from the Xyz Faction, right?”

“Yeah… I’m a part of the Resistance too, but I got imprisoned after a raid of Academia in my hometown.”

“So you’re there because you’re a Resistant, huh… Can’t say I’m surprised, I’d have only expected that from a highly-guarded prisoner. They’ve got to have caught ya for a reason, prisoners seem to be expensive to them. They’d rather trial them to forced tasks or death, depends on what mood they were in the day they dragged them in court. I remember that girl, Selena… The poor gal disappeared after she was convicted of high treason. I wonder if they’ve executed her yet.”

As Crow reminisces about the past, Ruri tries to guess how this Selena girl could have looked like: as much as she remembers the face of Sora Shiunin, the soldier who got executed for high treason sometime before Selena did, she has no idea who the latter is. She must have been caught before this poor girl met her demise in the sharp-clawed hands of Academia.

“Hey, you got any siblings?”

“I… I do, but why do you ask me that?”

“Oh, that’s just… the first thing I ask everybody,” he replies, surprised she’s taken aback by the question. “Also, I’ve heard about a _Shun_ Kurosaki who was part of the Resistance too, so I wondered if you were related or anything. I don’t know much about him, though.”

“He’s my brother…” And her heart starts hurting again. “I wonder how he’s doing, right now…”

Crow stays quiet for a few moments, letting her sulk, until he gasps at the sudden inspiration he’s just gotten (or so he seems, judging from his suddenly luminous face).

“Hey, that gives me an idea! What if I communicated for you with the outside? This way, you’d receive news from our comrades, and I can tell them about how you’re holdin’ up! I may even be able to get info on your big bro!”

Sparks appear in her eyes as she clenches the bars with her hands, as if she’s now able to break them from learning the good offer, dopamine flowing in her veins along with a newfound excitation rhythming her heartbeats.

“You could do that?! I’d love it if you could, of course, but… You’re sure it’s not too dangerous? I don’t want you to risk your job or anything…”

The man before her laughs again before a solemner expression replaces his smile.

“I didn’t exactly _choose_ to be a prison guard, y’know, so if I can be a mole for fuckin’ once and not just obey some greasy asshole’s orders, then I’ll only be better about it, believe me.”

Just as quickly as he sulked, he rises back to his feet in a crouching position and puts on a smirk again.

“Plus, I have some connections in the higher-ups who’re also secret moles, so I’m gonna get ya some ultra-confidential info if you need it! Deal?”

He shows her his pinkie through the bars, confusing her for a moment until she, not without a tinge of childish embarrassment, locks hers with his, leading to a quick shake.

“Deal.”

Ruri can’t help but sigh in relief and smile again. He really is a miracle.

“Thank you again.”

“Ya welcome. Feel free to ask me anythin’ later.”

Crow fully gets up, back on his feet, and she’s worried he’s going to leave already. If he does, who’s going to be there for her?

“I have to go, hope you’ll excuse me! Got a last request for the night?”

She thinks and thinks, gears rapidly turning inside her brain, until she remembers there _is_ something she needs as soon as possible.

“Oh, right! Could you get some paper and a pen for me, please?”

“Sure thing!” He gives her a thumb up. “I’m bringin’ that to you tomorrow, ‘kay? I can’t guarantee getting you a pretty colour or anything, but I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you so much, Crow!”

He grins again, waves at her and leaves the corridor while she watches, for the first time in forever filled with hope and a want to see tomorrow come. There’s a way out of there, a key to her birdcage, and she’ll be able to sing again. Truly, miracles exist, and she only needed to wait for one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading Act I of BWI! I really appreciate it.  
I hope to see you for the next step on the ride, Act II, on Saturday, August 31st!


	5. Act II, Scene 1: Fortunae Rota

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ That was an odd detail to leave out. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another Act of BWI! This week, the pace picks up a little, with a new trial and the introduction of yet another character to the roster (but that's for the Intermission, obviously!).  
This Scene 1 chapter is still in Selena's POV because I happened to write in hers and didn't feel like switching things around. It was just more interesting to write for me than Shun's. I hope you'll see why when reading through this chapter.  
The chapter title translates to "Wheel of Fortune". I almost made the English version the actual chapter title, but then realized it'd be much more thematic to put in Latin considering the title of the next chapter. Hehe. Sometimes my Latinist self shows.

Sleeping had been difficult, if not a desperate attempting at wasting idling time. The lights never truly turned off: they dimmed after some time, but never _went_ out. The eyes of the cameras (there were three red spots in that room alone) never shut their mechanical eyelids, always spying on them and what little intimacy they could have had. The only place where they weren’t being watched was the bathroom but sleeping in the shower was more uncomfortable than anything else. She hadn’t even striped out of her day clothes to sleep: being naked, even for a moment, translated to being vulnerable. She had kept her shirt and shorts, Kurosaki had even kept his coat. How he hadn’t overheated in the “night” was something she frankly couldn’t wrap her head around.

Fortunately, Selena was used to the lack of sleep and getting watched. Academia had had its dirty, indiscreet eyes on her when she was in temporary captivity. She was used to sleeping in direr conditions and to function properly even in times where she hadn’t been able to fully rest. She had, simply, been formatted to do so. They wouldn’t get her spirits down through such devious techniques.

All she got from that experience was that she truly wanted to escape as soon as possible and, as such, they got to the second trial barely minutes after waking up.

The room awaiting them was, compared to the large gap of the first, small and slightly decorated: water flowed in columns around them, even if she suspected these to have stored experiments of some unspeakable sort at some points, judging from the metallic feet of these columns and the little screen each of them wore. Compared to the calming waterfalls they may have wanted to make them out to be, they produced the polar opposite effect on her: they were traps, things to be suspicious of. Because they weren’t repurposed enough, they brought her to the uncanny valley. Too bad.

In the centre of it sat a table with, on it, six recipients filled with more water or, again, what seemed to be water. From where they came from, they could read the ominous-looking “Will the dice roll in your favour?”. Aside from the very poor taste this quote was showing Academia’s executives to have, its placement there couldn’t have been less of a coincidence than this, and she immediately grew even more suspicious of the room.

The door wasn’t directly locked, as it stood there wide open, just like the time before. However, it was made entirely unreachable: another gap had been installed there, this time with what looked like a floating bridge lying on the ground, undisturbed and entirely immobile, too low to be used to reach the other side but obviously meant to. From where she stood, she stared at it one last time, studied its condition (it seemed fine enough to support the both of them at the same time) and walked back to the focus of the room.

“What is it, this time?” She thought out loud, prompting a “tsk” from Kurosaki as he observed the different glasses.

They had an odd shape to them. For recipients only meant to be seen by some experiment subjects, they looked pristine, with wings elegantly sculpted in their glass surface, reflecting the sharp white lights like sparkles. Even stranger may have been the difference between their reactions to them: while Selena was fascinated and admirative of the handiwork that must have gone into these glasses, Kurosaki gritted his teeth at them, tight fists and jaw clenched. What a weird reaction to something this unusually pretty considering the circumstances.

“I don’t know,” he still answered. “I don’t fucking know. That’s going to be the issue with all these rooms, isn’t it?”

“Seems like it.”

She turned around the table, studying all the glasses. They were all identical: same transparent liquid, same details and crystal-clear materials, same… Oh. There _was_ a difference, a faint one from the distance she was from the table: the smell. The smell was different, faintly different, but _different_. Each glass had a different scent coming from it. That was an odd detail to leave out.

While she wasn’t sure if breathing in gases right above some unknown liquids that could have been anything ranging from pure water, chemical products, poisons or potential bombs just waiting for some more carbon dioxide to explode, Selena didn’t feel threatened by them. If they had been toxic, Kurosaki or she would have shown signs of gas poisoning. Alas, they both seemed pretty much fine, aside from getting trapped in a potentially deadly labyrinth that was.

“The hell you’re doing?” He asked as he walked up to her, staring at her nose sniffing the smell of the liquids (that was water, right? That had to be water).

“These all smell differently. That’s how you’re supposed to distinguish them.”

He didn’t seem too impressed, if not in complete disbelief of what she was theorizing, but nonetheless listened to her and smelled the contents of the two closest to him. He remained silent, put back the two glasses, and nodded.

She crossed her arms and put a hand on her chin, trying to guess what was supposed to be the key to the enigma. Six different-smelling glasses of presumably water… A sentence about a dice… Odds… Favours… The only common point she was seeing between a glass of water and a dice was, in these very precise circumstances, their number. But, even then, you weren’t supposed to roll a glass of water to guess on which number it was going to fall. There were no odds with liquids: that just didn’t make sense.

“Kurosaki, you’ve got any idea?” She then asked, because staying pensive wasn’t going to help them by much.

“It’s something about those glasses and some dice. Has to be about the number six. And water, I guess.”

He didn’t seem convinced by his own theory, but Selena rolled with it anyway. The coincidence was too strong to be one if they just happened to have six slightly different glasses of water on display and a quote about throwing a dice. But, in this case, which one did they have to choose? What did they have to do with it? It had to be removed in some way to be noticed and recognized, right? Did they have to drink it? No, that was against the arbitrary rules imposed to them…

Without paying much attention, she was still scenting the glasses, trying to find the fatal flaw in one of them that would allow her unlikely duo to move on with the next stupid room they’d have to go through. That was when, in a reflex, she realized something: there was an obvious one odd out, if she thought about it for more than thirty seconds.

“Hey, Kurosaki.”

He was staring somewhere else, perhaps deep in thoughts, before turning his head in her direction.

“What is it?”

“Do Xyz people drink almond-flavoured water, by chance?”

The frowning stare he gave her answered her question in lieu of his words.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Thought _what_?” He quickly blubbered before she took the handle of one of the glasses…

…and smashing in on the ground in one sweeping movement of her arm, glass shattering across the floor, the liquid pouring out of it in splashes, barely missing soaking her.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?!” He yelled as he rushed towards her, before stopping in his stride.

One of the big water containers, the one put on the wall right next to the gap, had its bottom half smashed in a second, flooding the hole until the bridge had become visible from where they stood, revealing the safe access to the next door. A quick glance into what remained of the recipient gave her the answer: the tiniest detector in its bottom, translucent to the point of being almost transparent, inserted inside the glass itself. This was the right answer.

“Let’s go,” she told him with a smirk she couldn’t hide.

As they crossed the bridge to the next room, the conversation didn’t die down.

“Wait, Tsukimori,” Kurosaki called out to her before she could open the door. “How the hell did you guess _that_ was the answer? And I don’t mean the glass-smashing part.”

“The other glasses smelled like fruits. Orange, lemon, strawberry, raspberry and what I suppose is another citrus. You’ve ever _seen_ almond juice?”

“…no.”

“If they could flavour water with almond, it’d taste either very artificial or bitter. It smelled like bitter almond.”

(Kurosaki looked aside. Didn’t seem like he had noticed the difference like she had.)

“It was cyanide.”

He froze for a second.

“That’s how you recognized it, right? It was none of that “not a fruit” crap you’re going on about.”

“You could say that.”

And they entered the next resting room, going quiet, her with a smirk, him with slight doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter was called "Russian Roulette", and the trial featured here was originally for the fourth Act. I changed my mind because of Shun and Selena's character dynamic. The title change is just because it sounded a bit too... edgy to my tastes.  
It's also clearly not the first time I attempt writing a mystery with an almond-scented beverage... Ah, good old This Trial Court Has Students in It. You're still a thorn in my side.


	6. Act II, Scene 2: Ἀνάγκη

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ Why do you want to know that? Your faction put a bounty on my head. You should know that already. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. Selena's POV two chapters in a row? Now that's a surprise, don't you think?  
The quote I first announced BWI with, which serves as this chapter's "summary", comes from this chapter. I'll let you discover the actual context for it.  
The title transcribes to "Anankê", and is a reference to the Ancient Greek philosophical concept of fate or necessity. It may or may not also be an obscure, yet unsubtle, tribute to Victor Hugo's _ Notre-Dame de Paris _.

Silence. Pure, overblown, deafening _silence_. That was what seemed to flawlessly wait for them once the trial was over, when they weren’t going through whatever shit Kurosaki had decided he’d be doubtful about her for or what course they should take about a problem that only sick minds and-slash-or bored people could put together. In this context, though, maybe she could trigger a conversation. Selena was, quite frankly, fed up with merely being quiet in times where keeping everything to themselves could mean death of the both of them.

So she jumped the shark and went for it anyway. Better try than just stand there and do nothing.

“Kurosaki?”

He didn’t respond verbally, yet again, but he made the effort to turn his head from the wall the bed he was lying on was put against to her direction. If she squinted, she could almost see him glance towards her.

“How did you even end up here?”

He sat up, as if he finally wanted to talk and not just give her suspicious stare after suspicious stare. Finally, maybe they could go somewhere. Maybe. She wasn’t exactly rising her hopes.

“Why do you want to know that? Your faction put a bounty on my head. You should know that already.”

She was tired of hearing him put her in the same bag as all these people whom she had seen smiling as they had torn family apart; but it was also clear Kurosaki wasn’t listening whenever she brought that up. Fucking stubborn-ass jerk…

“All I know is the code on your bracelet and that you’re a Resistant. How did you get caught? You were a dangerous criminal, you had to have been hard to catch.”

He sighed, making her think he was going to pout in his corner again and sulk like a mistreated dog licking his wounds, yet he deceived her expectations, even though his eyes still stared intensely at the floor before him. He wasn’t as much of a one-trick pony as she had thought he was.

“They tricked me when I tried to save my sister from them.”

He rose his eyes to her.

“It’s disturbing how much you look like her too.”

Selena’s sense of curiosity had been peaked. A sister? That wasn’t too surprising to learn about, considering this person of his, this XYZ1 had to be someone. How could such a rough character like Kurosaki be enamoured with his sibling enough to be willing to trade his freedom for hers? That was why he was here in the first place, right?

“You have a sister?”

If she squinted again, she could see the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah. Her name’s Ruri. She’s all I’ve got left. Her, and the Resistance. I was willing to save her before everything else, and…” He clenched his fists. “They used that against me. Caught me using her as a hostage. Threatened her with a knife to the throat. Poisoned me while I was stuck thinking a way to save her from their claws.”

Right as her guesses pieced themselves together from the new onslaught of information, he looked aside.

“And they never freed her, even after getting my skin. They’re beyond rotten.”

“Believe me, I know that.”

“Oh, right. You’re a traitor to them, apparently.” He frowned harder. “What made you betray them, exactly?”

Was Kurosaki finally opening his ears to her pleas to listen to her, that she wasn’t his enemy, that they didn’t have to be foes when being allies made this much more sense? About time he did.

“One day, I went on a mission against the Xyz Faction. We had been told that some rogues had attacked the Central Hospital and threatened to kill or harm patients there. Instead, what awaited us were people terrified for their life in their rooms because Academia had suddenly barged in, and we had the obligation to arrest anyone seen wearing a piece of red fabric on sight. I…”

She cut herself as she pictured with vivid colours this day, not so long ago, that seemed like it had been lost in the sands of times and far from her; yet it was so close that she could still smell the burnt plastics and heated antiseptics.

“…refused to obey the orders when I was supposed to arrest this girl who looked like me. She looked so panicked, so afraid of what I was going to do, but she was still putting on a strong front for the children she was hiding behind her, protecting them with her arms like she was their shield. I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t bear making innocents like her suffer for an ideology I had stopped understanding so long ago, so I helped her hide and save herself from the mess my own group was doing. I didn’t get caught immediately, but someone betrayed me, turned me to my leaders, and I found myself trialled for high treason.”

She scoffed at herself, at everything that had happened for her to find herself in this ridiculously meticulous mess, and lowered her gaze. She couldn’t tell what was on his face: despite the pride of her success of the day, she simply couldn’t look right into his eyes.

“You’re right to be weary of someone who was able to betray her own camp, Kurosaki. I’d be suspicious if I was you.”

Well, that hadn’t been the greatest conversation opening, hadn’t it? They were both mute as tombstones now, her not daring to add anything to her tirade and him most likely rising even more doubts against her person, the camera’s oppressive stares not helping them in communicating amongst themselves.

“…that was Ruri.”

“Excuse me?!”

“That was Ruri.” He paused regularly between his words, as if he had spoken them panting. “There’s no doubt about it.”

“How would you know that?!”

“She told me about it all, right after she fled. Told me how Academia had attacked the hospital, how she had stayed behind with the children of our neighbours she was accompanying to a check-up, how someone who looked almost just like her had gotten them all out of there. It was you.”

Selena was left speechless. Coincidences like this only happened in novels and movies, not in the cold and harsh real lives of a soldier and a resistant.

“Thank you for saving her, Tsukimori.”

“But she… still got caught, in the end, right?”

Again, that faintest hint of a smile was back…

“Couldn’t have been your fault.”

He lowered his head, gaze focusing on his balled-up hands, all the happiness she could have seen on him gone in an instant.

“…I guess we’ll really have to set things aside and cooperate.”

“Took you long enough to get,” she began scoffing, but settled for a calmer attitude in the end. “Even if I realize it must be hard for you to trust someone from the very group that’s oppressed your entire people and kidnapped your sister.”

“Still not a reason to throw you away when we’re stuck here together.”

Another silence, short-lived.

“It’s a necessity.”

“If it pains you this much, just remember we’ll be free one day, and that day, you’ll be able to go the further you want possible away from me. So, to do that as soon as possible, collaborate with me. That’s the only one we’re going to get out of this place alive.”

“…yeah.”

The silence that fell after that felt much more tranquil than before, as if they had both consented to it, a bubble of serenity in their ocean of anxiety.


	7. Intermission II: Hermes with Singed Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [CROW]  
_ If you’re not some Academia scum, let’s discuss that elsewhere. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's Intermission is way shorter than I'd have liked it to be, but it gets the point across, and that's what matters.  
I doubt it'll come to a surprise to anyone who is getting formally introduced in this story, considering the tags and what's been said in the first Intermission, but I'm still happy to have him officially in the BWIverse.

Not without adrenaline running through his veins and a smirk of joy, the pleasure to mess with Academia’s awful nature, Crow goes downstairs to the place he’s been asked to go to, clutching the hairpin in his hand like it’s his own life. As it stands, he does see his mission as a life or death ordeal: he’s putting his own on the line, threatening the livelihood of his home, and Ruri trusts him to deliver what he can only guess to be a message of the upmost importance.

Sure enough, he’s right to have given her his unconditional trust: at the door is waiting a boy around her age, matching the description she’s made of him. He looks like a guy he’d have to arrest for greasy old guys at Fusion’s headquarters, with spiky purple and black hair, dressed in tattered kaki and greys, a red piece of fabric tied around his elbow (not unlike Ruri’s, which sits neatly knotted around her waist). A weird place to wear it, practicality considered, but that’s beside the point.

“Are you Yuto?”

As soon as Crow calls to him, the boy turns around, immediately pulling a pocketknife from his pockets, eyes locked on him like visors on a target. Uh oh, there must be a misunderstanding…

“H-hey,” he stutters while he leaves his arms up, “I’m not your enemy! I’m here to bring you something!”

The blade remains risen, but the guy lifts his eyes to notice the camera staring right into his intentions, the shine of the metal hidden behind Crow’s body as he attempts to look unharmed, pulling his hands behind his head.

“If you’re not some Academia scum, let’s discuss that elsewhere.”

Like a good dog, Crow follows him to a spot where nobody could have been watching them: the abandoned ruins of a former research facility, mostly burnt and torn down, looking like a shadow of its former eerie attempt at glory. He remembers having debuted in this place, before the entire thing got attacked by the Resistance, leading to its closure by Academia and the reassignment of its staff to other spots. He had merely been the lucky one to land next to the lovely Ruri Kurosaki through not so glorious deeds.

Once they arrive there, Yuto stops in what seems to be a semi-decent doorway, decorated with stained red curtains, crimson shining through the darkness of the singed walls. He lies against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes never letting his target down. The stare of a renegade fugitive if Crow has ever seen one, not unlike the ones he sees in children at the orphanage when learning of other people’s unfair tragedies or his friends’ eyes when they participate in raids against Academia’s Top system. (He wonders how Jack and Yusei are doing, if Martha has finally gotten all the respect she deserves from the world and whatnot).

“Prove me you’re not the enemy,” Yuto tells him with that steady tone of voice he’s heard from her insisting on protecting her peers, that tone that should have never belonged to a fifteen-year-old. “You’re an Academia dog, right? Why should I trust you?”

Crow immediately takes down his uniform hat, freeing his hair (finally!) and showing the red headband, the one that convinced this boy’s companion, hoping there’s enough light for its colour to be pop out and distinguish itself from the debris and dirt.

“I’ve got a message for you from Ruri Kurosaki.”

All it gets from Yuto is a chuckle and a smirk. The relaxing of his shoulders betrays some form of relief, though, and it’s enough for him to recover the hairpin from his pocket.

“_Ruri_, you say?” He still seems doubtful. Well, of course he’d be…Who wouldn’t be? It sounds like some lame “I know this person you know”-type of excuse.

“Here ya go,” Crow responds as he hands the hairpin to him, making sure it’s intact.

As he theorized before coming, Yuto immediately recognizes the piece of jewellery, made out of two engraved golden metal wings and a sky-blue gem in the middle of them. According to her, it was a gift from her “best friend” (more like “boyfriend I don’t dare to ask on a date”, if you ask him), but the urgency of her caution words has been enough for him to want to protect the tiny thing with all his strength and might. The boy’s fingers barely fiddle with the pin, immediately managing to access the paper she hid inside of it and reading it.

The emotions on this teen’s face change rapidly. It begins with a sigh of relief, then a tiny smile, only to turn sour and end on a bittersweet note as he finishes reading the tiny note. Taking a pen from the hideout behind him (it _has_ to be a hideout, it can’t be anything else), he scribbles something on the back of the note, making sure to sign (nobody draws a letter as a spiral, right?) and folds it back inside the pin, closing it gently before giving it back to him.

“You’re a mole, then?” Yuto then asks. “C’mon in, I’ve got a few things to ask you, if you don’t mind.”

With a gesture, he invites the other party to enter inside a tiny room, where sits some repurposed seating (the one Crow had settled for seemed to have been a sofa, at one point), where plans hide in the shadows and where spider webs have become a decorating item.

“You could put it that way.”

They both sit facing each other. For such a pirate meeting that could get them both arrested on the spot and him on death row, it feels agreeable, even considering the context.

“How come that you’re in contact with Ruri and managing to get messages in and out? I don’t believe someone at Academia could forge her handwriting and style this well.”

“Huh… I’ve got some links in there. A superior of mine is another mole, so he makes sure I don’t get caught red-handed. He also got me attributed to the special quarters where Ruri is, and since she’s all alone in there, I can chat with her no problem. That’s how I managed to get her message to you.”

He smiles, winking at his interlocutor.

“So, if you’ve got anythin’ else to get to her, I can try and do that for you. Just sayin’.”

This seems to have made the guy pensive, like the question has made him think about something too important for him not to actively seek a precise answer to.

“Just… tell her that I love her and that I’m coming for her. No, that _we’re_ coming for her.”

Red creeps out on his cheeks as he scratches his chin, eyes looking away.

“…and that she reads the message inside the pin. It’s important info.”

He shakes his head, the confident smile Ruri described to him now showing through.

“Thank you very much for this, Crow.”

“You welcome. It’s nothing, really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading BWI Act II! Let's see each other around for Act III, which will go live on Saturday, September 7th!  
Also, just in case you'd wanna advertise BWI, don't forget to check out its official Twitter and Tumblr links!  
TWITTER THREAD: https://twitter.com/TheDarkFlygon/status/1162797628284973056  
TUMBLR POST (ACT II): https://thedarkflygon.tumblr.com/post/187393224775/black-winged-icarus-8312019-act-ii-here-is


	8. Act III, Scene 1: Soap Lagoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ Selena didn’t like not knowing where she was going. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to yet another Act of Black-Winged Icarus! This week, we'll take a look at more forced mutual trust, discovering the other and ensuring someone else that, yes, this person you've met last week is a good person, you _ swear _.
> 
> This chapter's title is... yeah, it's yet another Masa reference, this time to a song named SOAP LAGOON. While the latter has more than sexual undertones to it, this fic will remain entirely SFW. Yes, that's right: you can read it even when attending a family dinner! How cool is that?

While these couldn’t really be called “mornings”, Selena still preferred to refer to the moments following her awakening to “breakfasts” and “day beginnings”. In times where time wasn’t regulated by any objective forces, she had to do with what he had on hand: herself and her sense of seconds, minutes and hours passing by. She hadn’t been allowed to keep her watch when in captivity: her last gift from Sora had been torn away from her possession, leaving her to determine by herself what time of the day or night it could have been.

That one awakening was different, however, as it was the first time she shared breakfast with Kurosaki. There hadn’t been much going on during that time, but they shared the same table and food. That was already something she hadn’t expected to happen this soon, but their similarities continued to show up as they worked together to survive the Daedalus.

However, the breakfast and the shower following it were only the calm before the storm. Right after it, the moment they had finished forcing some normalcy back into their lives, Academia’s wicked soul would come back for theirs, facing them with yet another trial to face and yet another chance for their lives to end there in a moment. When were they going to get enough for this? Never, most likely. There’d always be someone to rejoice about watching two teenagers go through twisted “experiments” to oppress a nation.

Selena didn’t like not knowing where she was going. She didn’t like not having a single idea as to what she was supposed to do in situations where she had to call for her own judgement and not blindly following some orders given to her by a superior she may or may not have hated from the depths of her guts. Now that she was left to her own devices, her only lifeline being another guy who had most likely not more insight than she did on the situation, her distaste for this had only grown stronger.

The door gave way to a room split in two by a wall. Considering the strong emphasis on cooperation the very first trial they had lived through had, she could have only guessed its solution to be one person per corridor and the final way to unlock the next step would be found in there. If she thought about it like mere cooperation training, it was only logical to think that it’d be the same deal there. How predictable in their unpredictability.

“Let’s split. You take the left, I take the right,” she told Kurosaki as she pointed her finger at each part of the room.

To her upmost surprise, he simply nodded in agreement, not even sighing or grumbling, and they went to their respective corridors, only for a stone slab to block the exit to both of them as soon as they had entered. One late footstep and someone would have finished crushed under the weight of that thing. She didn’t let get herself chills from this and kept on until a thick, pastel fog with a strong smell of soap blinded her view. While it didn’t exactly make her eyes irk or scratch, it sure blinded her enough for her not to really see where she was going.

“Do you see anything?” She asked, hoping her head was turned in his direction and that, by chance, he could hear her.

“Why do you ask that? I see everything on both our sides. There’s a _window_ between us. Are you _blind_?”

Reflexes started to trigger, one after the other, following the chain protocol Academia had bothered to teach her. _When your sight is down, when your sense of smell is numbed, focus on hearing and touching._ Hearing Kurosaki’s voice meant that she could exactly pinpoint where he was compared to her, almost on the same latitude as she was, but on her left, his voice clear, albeit his words didn’t make sense.

“What do you mean? I don’t see _anything_!”

However, what she could hear was the thrilling, violent grinding of a circular saw digging into the ground at frightening speeds, from her left, menacing one of both of them at every second she was attempting to move forward. The sound kept moving, getting further and closer each second.

“Tch, _of course_ it had to be something like that…” He thought out loud before getting himself together, screaming his responses. “You can probably hear them, but there are some giant saws in front of me that prevent me from reaching the end. There are switches on your side of the room.”

A short moment of silence. His tone was obviously frustrated with the situation, but so was she, so they were stuck together in this mess and ranting about it wouldn’t do it any favour to either of them.

“I… I’ll guide you to them. The first one’s on your right, on the wall, close to you.”

Selena carefully sidestepped to her right, trying to make her feet go fast as to avoid spending too much time with her main sense down, yet not too quickly as not to trip over herself and lose her balance with what else. Timing had always been crucial to soldiers: go too fast and you’ll get killed on the spot by your own temerity, go too slow and you’ll be at the mercy of the first sniping force on the enemy’s side. Come to think about it, even trusting him was a question of balance: don’t believe everything a stranger say, but keep an eye out for information you can verify the veracity of and go with once you’ve tested it.

As it stood, it was just as Kurosaki had told her: there was a button on the wall, which she pressed as soon as her fingers stumbled upon it. The sound of one saw disappeared, stopping dead in its track like a beast freshly killed by the hunter who needs its flesh to survive, but the echo of the grinding continued resonating inside the room, sounds bouncing on the walls and window, a sign they had to continue despite the difficulties they had artificially been put into. The fun never ended for someone out there, right? There had to be at least one person who wanted to see this happen.

That only made it more despicable, but she’d have to deal with it.

With each passing step, with each press switched, with each saw stopped in its track, they were entirely relying on each other to survive. Selena had no way to know what was ahead of her, yet a strangely soothing feeling bloomed in her chest each time she heard Kurosaki tell her she was in the right direction if she asked, describe to her how close she was to the next switch, replying even if it was short and abrupt, even if it was just for her to ask if she wasn’t going to trip by misplacing her foot on the floor in front of or behind her.

In the end, she could have gone without his guidance and left him to die trying to run over the rails, but she hadn’t; he could have attempted that and gone away with it and left her in the soapy fog (she didn’t know the height of these saws, they could have been tiny but vicious), but he hadn’t. They hadn’t run away from each other as soon as possible to save their own skin. “Collective survival instincts,” scientists around her would have called it. “Common sense,” she named it instead.

(But, you know, maybe pairing her with Kurosaki had actually been Academia’s worst idea about this whole maze thing. They seemed to form an efficient duo now that they were finally willing to work with each other. Their common enemy had something to do with that, she supposed.)

Seeing the fog dissipate was like rediscovering daylight after having spent the entire day trapped in the black of the night. Her eyes could now work properly, revealing her corridor to have been filled with thick fumes: the window must have been what had allowed Kurosaki to see what she could have never got through with only one sense.

“You weren’t lying,” he commented, arms crossed, as he stared at the other corridor.

“I never lie, Kurosaki.”

A smirk on his face.

“Good.”

Selena walked up to the door nonetheless, him following her as she glanced over the saws. They had all stopped and were, actually, around the size of half a leg: he’d have been able to jump over them, but at what risk? At what price?

She shook her head: no need to think about what hadn’t happened. She had to focus on what was to come and living in the present for now, because nothing could prepare her for what tomorrow had in store for either her or him. New rules, new adaptation required. If there was one thing she owed Academia, it was her capacity to adapt to everything a battlefield could throw at her; and this definitely counted as a battlefield.

She quietly opened the door and didn’t look back on the soap fumes.


	9. Act III, Scene 2: Guessing Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SHUN]  
_ Maybe she felt safer than anyone else in this clique because she knew them, yet rejected them. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a decently lengthed second chapter.  
This one is one of my personal favorites because its title is a good pun (to me, at least), it's an interesting dive into Shun's mind (which is rare, considering both chapters were in Selena's POV last time!) and, well, I love putting card games in my stories. Friends playing cards have been a huge part of my life for some reason ever since middle school, so this is to me peak socialization. I'm a weirdo, what a surprise.

Yeah. Silence again.

Honestly, Shun had expected it. He had never been a big speaker, preferring actions to words. He had always been clumsily honest with his speech anyway, as Yuto and Ruri had told him countless times (God did he miss them…), it was a good thing he shut up and didn’t just let his feelings explode at someone’s face for once. On the other side of the room, Tsukimori was as silent as he was too, aside from the occasional noise she’d produce when scavenging the bathroom’s pharmacy closet or eat anything (he had also never been a big eater, far from it).

Good for her, he supposed.

For some reason, he minded that silence. It bothered him that they both remained quiet, despite the half-dozen cameras prying on them with cold, mechanical eyes. He knew it was better for them to keep it quiet: nobody can hear the noise going in someone else’s head, at least not as far as he knew, and that may have been the reason why Tsukimori, who had been the one starting all these conversations since the beginning, was now dead quiet and had nothing left to tell him.

Frankly, Academia knew about Ruri already. They knew about his involvement in the Resistance. They knew about Yuto being another Resistant. They knew about Kaito being their leader (_de facto_ leader, he’d have added: Kaito had never wanted the position to begin with). They knew about Tsukimori’s treason. Those two times, they had had nothing to hide from their captors. No chance to unveil something secretive to the wrong ears.

Well, that seemed to have been before.

That was why Shun didn’t have a single idea as to why he was so utterly bothered by them not talking together. What else did they have to say that wasn’t confidential confirmation or just them throwing at each other their reasons as to why they didn’t want to work together for anything, even survival, that it was an utter pain to fight together against people who had forced them into this mess? They had nothing. They had never been talkers, they had never wanted each other’s companies, they had been forced to deal with it.

And yet, _and yet_, Shun was finding himself _intrigued_ by Tsukimori. He wondered how she had come to be Academia’s elite soldier, presumably the one nicknamed “the Deadly Doll” by her own peers (he had no way to confirm that hunch, though), only to turn against her own camp because she had apparently seen his sister and _that_ had spoken to her military mind. It made very little sense, all things considered, but her reasons still interested him. She could have left him behind to get his legs sawn off; yet hadn’t.

On second thought, he had willingly accepted to work with her today, not resigned himself to the task. Huh, odd. It was as if he was softening out to her.

(That, or the inevitable sleep deprivation brought on by sleeping on the battlefield was getting to him. He wasn’t even able to tell if he slept just enough or too little).

_What_ were they, anyway? They weren’t friends, that much was sure. They had known each other for way too little time for him to give her the trust he had in Yuto, or even Kaito, Sayaka and Allen. But, on the flipside, she wasn’t an enemy: she had proved herself to be on his side, if not just to escape. If he had remained fully cynical about the situation, he’d have said she’d betray him at the first occasion she had been given; but his instincts said to trust her, for some reason.

Tsukimori hadn’t shown any sign of being a traitress to his cause yet. She had initiated conversations with him where she hadn’t asked for crucial details about the Resistance. She had insisted on the collaborative aspect of their cruel and unusual punishment. She had openly condemned Academia knowing they were listening to her (actually, maybe _that_ was a trap). She felt… somewhat safe to trust, despite her former affiliation.

Maybe she felt safer than anyone else in this clique because she _knew_ them and yet _rejected_ them anyway.

Shun blamed it on her resemblance to Ruri. It was difficult not to at least be willing to believe in someone who looked so much like his sister, like the one person in the world he trusted the most, not to at least see a similar spark to Ruri’s eyes in Tsukimori’s. They weren’t the same, far from it, but she reminded him of his sister even if he tried to ignore the likeness anyway, and all that did was poison his mind further into letting his guard down around someone who just _happened_ to look like the one he missed the most.

(The coincidence was strong, though. Maybe Academia had imprisoned them together because they wanted him to lower his guard around a trusted agent).

“Just a quick question, Kurosaki.”

Tsukimori’s voice got him out of his thoughts, catching him off guard.

“Would you, by chance, trust in me, now?”

“_What_?”

Responding to a question with another was cheap, sure, but he needed the spare time to find an answer to give her.

“Just a… feeling I got earlier.”

They locked eyes, uncomfortably staring at each other, with her trying to pry answers from him and him trying to do just that, but from the misunderstood feelings rackling his chest like a cough that didn’t want to get out. (He wasn’t even to tell where his own mind was going as clearly anymore. Was that the sleep deprivation too?).

“I felt like we were getting somewhere, earlier. We made a good tandem, back there, don’t you think?”

“We got through it.” He almost added a shrug to go along with his ignorance. “Like we were supposed to.”

“You didn’t even look bothered about it.” She marked a pause, her lips turning into a smirk. “To be fair, I wasn’t either.”

He let out a small sigh and let his head tilt backwards.

“I don’t know. It just felt… natural.” That was vague. “Or, actually, it felt _genuine_. Like I wanted to get through this with you.”

A smirk made it onto his own face.

“That’s so weird.”

She snickered at his response. If he could trust Ruri and Tsukimori’s semblance, he’d say she was more amused than just making fun of his lame choices of vocabulary. Even their laugh sounded almost the same, so similar yet different enough to reach some sort of uncanny valley…

“I know, right?”

Tsukimori pulled out a deck of cards from the pouch she had somehow been allowed to keep (perhaps without any important content, but he couldn’t have known that, could he?), buckled around her waist, always put right against her pillow during the night (wait, when had he even learnt enough about her to know her routine’s little things?). With the smirk not leaving her mouth, she browsed through the cards, looking at the illustrations on them. Their backs wore a foreign symbol to him, belonging to neither of their factions as far as his knowledge went.

“Kurosaki, do you play card games?”

“I used to, even before joining the Resistance.”

_Before Ruri got abducted_, he should have added, as it still infuriated him, but he kept his raging urges under control.

“Mind playing some together? It’s a good way to kill time.”

He almost scoffed at how naïve this proposal sounded compared to everything else in the damn building.

“Eh, why not.”

They got up almost at the same time, with her just a bit quicker to her feet, and both went to the table of the room, taking a chair and sitting across it, facing each other. Tsukimori was still shuffling her cards in her hands, not paying attention to the gesture, most likely used to do it.

“Have you ever played a game of _Écarté_?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell to me.”

“It’s rarely played, but I used to play it almost every day with a friend of mine.” He could swear he had seen her sadden for a split second as she said that (granted, it must have only been his imagination and the sleep deprivation). “It’s a game for two players. Let me explain the rules out to you.”

“Go for it.”

Perhaps they were becoming friends, people stuck in the same misfortunate turning into companions in the dire times. It wasn’t that different from befriending people from the Resistance, right? It couldn’t have been that deep. There couldn’t have been more to it than his subconscious desire for companions again, to find a sense of normalcy by creating ephemerous bonds with people even in the slightest similar to him. (Even if, all things considered, he found himself in her eyes more and more often. It was disturbing how much of his own person he was projecting onto her).

Albeit, he had to admit it, Tsukimori had this _something_ more to her that he couldn’t exactly name or put his finger on. There was something to her, to her character, to her personality that just made her much more enjoyable than he’d have believed at first glance and during their first conversations. He had, alas, no words to put onto it and nothing to compare it to, so he just bottled this feeling in the depth of his heart and continued discussing about what could have been expecting them next.

There was no use to thinking about his bonds with someone who’d be out of the picture as soon as they’d be free. It’d only hurt him even further.

In another world, where people wouldn’t have been fighting for their rights, where Fusion and Xyz would have just been different cultures, where he hadn’t become a warrior and where she hadn’t be trialled for high treason against human’s worst, where it’d have been allowed, maybe they’d have been friends.

However, as it stood, they were only companions of misfortune retained against their will and they must have seen their captivity in the other’s face, body and soul.

On another hand, Tsukimori wasn’t half bad at card games. That could be a good way to pass time.


	10. Intermission III: Flames of the Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [YUTO]  
_ Every time he’s been there has been a catastrophe. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Intermission contains perhaps the hottest AU takes possible in this context, but spoiling them wouldn't be fun, so you'll have to see by yourself what I could possibly be alluding to.  
And yes, this chapter confirms a background ship in this story. It's a very predictable one, though.  
It's on the shorter end of Intermissions but, believe me, there's a reason why. Next week is going to be a bomb.

If there’s one thing Yuto dislikes about being called into the leader’s office, it’s that it’s never been for any good reason. In fact, every time he’s been there has been a _catastrophe_.

The first told him about their previous leader getting caught and Kaito, split between a son’s heartbreak and an outrage that didn’t really hide, holding onto his little brother as if Haruto could have disappeared tomorrow (though, to be fair, Haruto _could_ still disappear by tomorrow, Academia is just _that_ vicious). He remembers not knowing where to put himself, feeling like words should have gone out of his throat, but he instead remained as silent as a grave, eyes staring at the floor, while Ruri did all the talking.

The second has affected him personally enough for him to try and suppress the memory from his mind. All that he can get out from the vague turmoil of everything having melted into a blurry sludge of memories are Shun’s words stuck between rage and guilt, the man who got furious at the world for committing such an atrocity and at himself for letting that happen to begin with, and the promises they all made that day. _Take down Academia, get Kaito’s father and Ruri back._

The third and last to that day was Kaito himself announcing him, in a solemn voice that wasn’t devoid of anger, that Shun had gotten caught by the enemy during an operation to save prisoners, tricked by his love for his sister. Yuto has much clearer memories of that, because he almost broke his fingers hitting the wall that day. First their leader, then his lover, now his best friend, when would this end? Where would they finally stop stealing people away from him, no, from them?

Kaito’s door is open, when Yuto arrives.

Ignoring (or, at least, trying to ignore) the odd detail, he knocks once to announce his presence and steps inside, unable to see his companion’s face, hidden away from him as the latter is looking through the window, the last one they have that’s secured thanks to one-sided colour filters. The door left open still has no reason to be this way, this much is certain, and Kaito’s pensive stance doesn’t give anything more on the situation.

“I’m here,” Yuto eventually manages to say out loud, not even sure if his words could reach anyone. “You called for me.”

Kaito turns around, face as neutral as it could have been (which means it’s still sculpted by anger, just less noticeable than if he let it show entirely). Not the devastated, worsening expression he wore when he had to announce three abductions at very short time spans from each other, but he could look less anxious about whatever is on his mind.

“Thank you for coming, Yuto,” He first greets him with the stealthiest smirk, then resumes looking severe. “I’ll cut to the chase. Is it true that you have connections to a mole inside Academia?”

“Who… Who told you about that?” Asking questions as replies has never worked with Kaito, he knows it, so why is he still trying? Talk about a waste of time. “Y-yes.”

“I simply overheard Sayaka and Allen mention it. According to them, they heard you speaking to someone outside the Resistance that came from its prisons.”

“These two, I swear…”

Of course it’d be these two. He can easily picture in his mind’s eye Allen dragging Sayaka by the hand to eavesdrop on Crow and him, surely to ensure the latter isn’t actually a mole from Academia. Good thinking, questionable execution. In a way, they’re like Shun, if he thinks about it and compares them to his harsh, sometimes absurdly throughout and cold best friend.

(Doesn’t prevent him from missing Shun just as much as Ruri…)

Surprisingly, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, Yuto sees Kaito smile lightly. He supposes this is a good sign, considering the rarity of the occasion and Kaito’s nature to refute façades and masks (that’s _such_ a Shun thing to think).

“His name is Crow,” Yuto instead opts for explaining everything and dissolve any possible confusion. “He’s from the Synchro Faction, but had to enrol into Academia’s ranks to provide for the orphanage he was raised in.”

“And you think he’s a part of Resistance because?”

“He was wearing a red headband under his uniform cap and, most importantly… He’s in direct contact with Ruri.”

“Come again?”

Kaito seems utterly baffled to hear about this, the hand he has on his desk rolling into a fist as soon as he hears that from his interlocutor’s mouth. Yuto’s expected the news to hit right home, because they weren’t even been sure until now of how Ruri was holding out (or Shun, for that matter, but it was safe to assume he’d be on death row), and it’s with a confident smile (and an unhid reassurance that she’s doing as well as possible, now with an ally directly by her side and them indirectly there for her) that he continues his explanations.

“Crow’s the guard for her special quarters, or so I think that’s what happened. He handed me her headpin, in which there was a message for me.”

“How can you be so sure it was from Ruri and not someone else trying to fool us?”

“The handwriting, style and signature all matched hers. There was no mistake there: it was Ruri. And Crow brought that message for me to read. She’s alive, Kaito. She’s _alive_.”

His companion can’t prevent a smile from creeping on the corner of his lips, eyes shining with a new light. Good, considering Yuto feels tears coming to his.

“Crow’s gonna be our messenger now. He has access to inside and confidential information through another mole, or so he’s told me.”

As expected, however, Kaito remains sceptical. How could he not be doubtful of such good information coming through? They’ve gotten tricked in the past. They’ve lost Ruri to these tricks, followed by Shun who had a personal trap lied down before him. These people are vicious, and they have been the victims of their nonsensical hatred: it only makes sense for them to be sure about any ally being this, an ally, and not some attempt by the enemy to squeeze inside their network and damage the already-fragile gears.

“Just in case, can you show me the paper?” Kaito asks, showing his other hand.

“Thought you’d ask,” Yuto replies as he carefully recovered the finely folded message from his pocket. “There you go,” he adds as he puts the paper in his companion’s hand.

Kaito quickly reads through the paper and gives it back immediately after, the smile not letting go of the fight against his previously crushed hopes.

“You were right. It _has_ to be Ruri. This Crow guy really must be our ally…”

The blond crosses his arms, a hand on his chin.

“Still, Yuto, can I ask something a favour from you before you go?”

“Of course, what do you need?”

“Could you tell him to meet me here as soon as possible? I want to personally discuss some things with him before we take any big decision.”

“I’ll tell him that. You don’t mind me showing where our HQ is, right?”

“Right. Thank you, Yuto.”

At the sound of his name, he excuses himself out and makes his leave, opening and closing the door behind him with proud and hope coming back into his heart. Things are finally looking better, much better. There’s now room for them all to breathe, friends to have had, bonds to be made. And that isn’t even mentioning the new other ally he’s managed to find for the Resistance that, soon enough, will get to know.

He rushes out of the HQ and to Academia’s special quarters, where he has a meeting planned with Crow. The plan’s getting set into motion: new recruits, new forces, new information. All of this thanks to a little message from Ruri, as always elegantly written and signed, a piece of paper he still cherishes in the chest pocket of his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Kaito is not going to be a primordial character to this story. He's the first actual background character you've met.  
Now, there *is* an important fellow you'll meet next week... But you'll have to be there on Saturday, September 14th to know who they are!


	11. Act IV, Scene 1: Chain Mail Patchwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SHUN]  
_ Let’s just… focus on getting out of there as soon as possible _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's this week's BWI Act, Act IV! I think this is where stuff really starts picking up, so I'm pretty excited for it. There's even a litle surprise waiting for you at the end of this Act...  
As to this chapter, its idea came to me pretty late when writing it, lol. It was originally supposed to be the trial from Act II, but I decided to make Selena and Shun's dynamic evolve faster, so... yeah. This is where we're standing. Not that I don't really like the idea from this chapter, quite far from it haha. It's an easy one to get, but I think it's also an interesting one.  
As to the title? Yeah. I'm super proud of it. It's hardly translatable into French but I love it.

For the first time since the beginning of their oddest journey through imprisonment, Shun had found something to talk about in the morning. It was dumb, very much so, and it wasn’t anything impressive, but he thought he could try and stir up the conversation, this morning. Honestly, it just made forgetting the noises of the cameras and the constant flow of negative thoughts pouring inside his mind easier; on the other hand, it _did_ feel nice to have someone to kill time with before launching himself inside the jaw of the monster yet again.

They discussed card games. Tsukimori listed, when he asked, the games she’d play with this friend of hers (whose name was Sora, he soon learnt, and she’d always mention him with a smirk and frowned eyebrows). The _Ecarté_ was only one of them, albeit most of the ones she knew were actually for three or four players, not two specifically speaking. As he remembered spending time playing with Ruri and Yuto, he told about their games of Battle, perhaps without mentioning the weird, childish stakes they’d often put on these.

It was easier on his mind to start the day like this, by forgetting about the situation at hand for a little while.

However, reality came back quickly, and they opened the door to another load of bullshit, as the next room waiting for them was yet another empty space with a few things standing before them, the trap obviously laid right there for them to fall into. It looked like an obstacle course, quite the easy one in fact, and he immediately knew this could have been nothing but an attempt at making them rush head first into something they wouldn’t be able to easily get back on their feet from.

That was why neither of them were surprised when they got ankle-cuffed together out of nowhere, only the sudden noise of chains and clicking truly making him jump as his guard hadn’t been full to his surroundings, too focused on what was to come to really pay attention.

“I think you know what this means…” Tsukimori sighed. “We’ll have to do this chained together.”

He nodded in silence, without anything to add that wasn’t a flow of insults. Sometimes, shutting it was better than commenting on everything with spiteful venom.

The first part of the room was fine enough, indicated to them by being the only part they could walk on. They had to keep their balance as they walked through a beam, on the same to be exact, too narrow to truly put two feet at the same time, let alone four and which, as such, was a contender for “worst bridge ever convinced by a human being” (her words). The short distance the chain allowed between their ankles was actually an advantage, he soon learned: Tsukimori was using it to place herself first, her right feet put behind so his left one could be right behind it, and all they had to do was to maintain their equilibrium together.

To be frank, this had been the hardest for him to keep up with. Tsukimori was a lightweight with years of military training behind her and in her skills, shining in such weird and dire conditions. On the other hand, while he had never been too stiff, he was nowhere near being an acrobat: he had a slower pace and had troubles keeping his balance as much as Tsukimori, who barely needed her arms to remain afloat.

With that, he had his entire attention geared towards keeping his balance and not his surroundings. As soon as they could get down from the beam, he gave his back a glance, only to notice they could have very well fallen into what seemed to be either coloured water or extremely unhidden acid, bubbling at them in all its fuming glory, even if the beam itself had been above solid ground. This barely made sense, but he still let out a sigh of relief as he turned forward.

Despite the difficulty of having to match their pace and tempo, the bastards decided to spice things up when they were about to start on the second step towards the exit, jumping over obstacles in a dead-set course, not unlike an athletic running stadium’s fences, surrounded by walls forming a corridor. Obviously, it was going to be arduous thanks to these ankle cuffs, but it couldn’t be worse than that beam hanging near potentially fatal liquids.

Most evidently, this had almost been wishful thinking on his part, considering Tsukimori and he soon and suddenly found themselves chained to each other by a handcuff strongly enforced around their wrists, joining them at two different points. This really was announcing itself to be a _fucking pain_ in the ass, huh. Of course they’d try to make it as obnoxious as possible to go through.

“Let’s just… focus on getting out of there as soon as possible,” Tsukimori commented with as much exasperation in her voice as she could have stored in a single sentence.

He nodded in silence again. No need to complain.

Synchronizing jumps may have been one of the most difficult and technical things he had ever had to attempt (and succeed at doing) in his life. But he wouldn’t go down, he couldn’t give up, so he started trying to focus on the timing at which Tsukimori jumped to match his with hers. That was their way out, their only exit from this situation, so he gathered his shit and got down to business with these fences.

They obviously had trouble matching everything. He was taller, she was quicker, he jumped higher and further, she jumped faster, he wasn’t used to military training, she had gone through years of it. They weren’t synching together, falling more often than not, getting the other to fall with them, onto the fence and crashing to the ground, chains penalizing the one who had succeeded in jumping over the latest obstacle.

In that, the worst wasn’t covering his body with bruises: he was used to do that, to scarring his skin, to getting callouses on his hands and blisters under his feet. It was this sense of being the burden, the ball attached to the chain Selena had gotten wrapped around her ankle, the cuffs dragging her to the floor because he wasn’t able to keep up with her. He had never been the weak one before, he now realized in frustration as he got up from his latest fall, slightly relieved to see that she was still on her feet, just crouched to match the position of their cuffs.

“Can you keep up, Kurosaki?” She asked him, as if he was the one she should be concerned about. (She couldn’t have been concerned: they had known each other for far too little time for her to do that).

“Yeah,” he half-heartedly replied, getting back to his feet and then up at the same tempo as she did. “Let’s continue.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt? We’ve fallen a few times now.”

“It’s nothing.”

She glanced behind her, then before her.

“We’ve made it through most of it. We should be over with it soon.”

“Let’s not waste time here and finish what we’ve started.”

Tsukimori had been right to worry about his physical condition, because his bruises were starting to make themselves noticed, but he pushed through this as their moves finally started synching, feet jumping at a slight difference to make up for their drastically uneven bodies and abilities, yet not without losing tempo. Once they had gotten the trick mastered, they went faster and faster, jumping over any obstacle in front of them, never hitting the fence again, until the second part of their second step had become nothing but the easiest trial yet. It somehow started to feel natural, as if they had always meant to synch together like that when it had never been clear before that moment where everything changed.

Shun had gotten himself so wrapped up in the idea to match their moves that he was surprised when obstacles stopped appearing and that all they were faced with was an open door and a key hanging above the ground, tied to a thread itself tied to the ceiling. Tsukimori, though, reacted much faster than she did, grabbing the key with an assured hand and unlocking all four of their cuffs in light, quick moves of her wrist and fingers.

Before he knew it, they were freed from each other’s rhythm, yet he was still finding himself trying to unconsciously synch his legs and arms, his breathing and heart beats, his thoughts and silent words, with hers. It had felt _this_ natural.

It was eerie how natural it felt, how natural it was for his soul to try synching with hers.

They went through the door with her in front and him in the back as he shot a last glance at the cuffs and chains, now sitting on the floor, lying where they had been defeated by the simple twirl of a key inside a hole. The more they went, the more these were supposed to represent their shaky tandem and differing paths in life…

…but was it really supposed to be a punishment, if he was starting to enjoy her presence and collaborating with Tsukimori?


	12. Act IV, Scene 2: Lost in Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ What time do you think it is? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter addressing an elephant in the freetime room. Spooky.  
Aside from that, yeah, it's filled with more badly-disguised personal experiences lmao. I'm trash y'all.  
I don't have a lot of things to say, except that I also quite like how this chapter came out, woops.

“What time do you think it is?”

Selena popped the question out of genuine curiosity as Kurosaki shuffled the cards, waiting for him to finish with her head in her hands and her elbows on the table. She had forgotten to pay attention to time before having to face it: she was anxious at the idea of not knowing what time it was, if it was night or day, what day of the week it was, how long they had been in there.

“Honestly? No idea. Didn’t think about it for a while.”

“…a while?”

He stood quiet for a few moments.

“I guess. It’s hard to tell.”

“I get what you mean.” She could only confirm the impression, “I _feel_ like it’s been a while.”

“Same here.”

Truth be told, Selena hated relying and impressions. Even if she was the kind to follow her instincts, she was also only following through with them if she could base it on a few facts. Alas, in this labyrinth, there was no fact to be found: everything depended on guesses from Kurosaki or her and their impressions of whatever was thrown at them. There was no solid ground she could base herself on, nothing to pace her life out aside from doors locking and unlocking at seemingly random intervals, with no day or night to rhythm her sleeping patterns, and all she had were dimming lights that she forced herself to consider as a sign to go to bed and get some rest before going through what came next for them.

Tuning off and on to the same background noises was starting to get on her mind, weighing on her neck and shoulders, because never seeing the outside and spending all of her breathing and conscious moments in the same place where the only things changing were the trials and Kurosaki’s position in the room was making her go insane.

At one point, she could swear she had seen Sora standing in a far-off corner, blue hair contrasting with the blinding white of the walls and floor. It was, like everything good here, only a mirage.

Because they had virtually no way to know what time it was, if it was day or night, if they hadn’t gotten completely warped up by their surroundings, they started finding way to kill that time, to waste their energy until they’d be too exhausted to think about everything if the dimming lights didn’t come early enough. They didn’t even have alcohol to wash their feelings with: their sole booze was whatever they could wrap themselves up in, them who had never been imaginative kids.

Much to her luck, she had somehow been allowed to keep her trusted pouch and most of its contents (as her ID card had disappeared without a trace, same went for her pocketknife), including her two card decks. One of them was old and worn out, but still cherished by the memories she had of playing games with it, childhood cards given to her right before she had had to enrol into the army, orphan obligated to join the military whether she wanted to do it or not. Sora had gifted the other one to her, a tarot deck, containing all of the Arcanae. In this deck was also still slipped a version he had himself of her favourite Arcana, the Moon, probably having required the use of… less than legal manners to achieve its incredible quality when they had been trainee soldiers.

These cards were one of the few strings she still had that made her remain afloat. It was very little, but it was still something. The few other things she had were her instincts, the promise of her freedom at the end, spite and Kurosaki’s presence reminding her that, at least, she wasn’t the only one going through the null-numbered, superficial layer of Hell.

As such, to kill the time, they had both decided to play card games together, sharing their respective games. If they both knew how to play the Battle, she had made him discover the games they played in the Fusion Faction and in Academia (the _Écarté_ only being one of them, the one they could get through without any issue because of lacking players), he taught her how to play what he had the habit to play with his friends (he mentioned Ruri a lot, but she learnt the names of a few other people, namely a Yuto who seemed to be dear to Kurosaki, perhaps a best friend of sorts?).

During their games, they started to exchange more and more words, finding themselves common traits and interesting differences. They had agreed on something first: silence was good, but not to the extent they had entertained for the first two “days” of them knowing each other. Perhaps it was because she had finally resolved herself to the fact they were going to spend all of their awaken time together, they’d have to cooperate and she had nothing to say about it, but she also started being curious as to who Kurosaki was, rather than what.

First, it was just noticing some things about him and his little gestures. The way he shuffled his deck was different than her: it was spasmatic, sometimes rough around the edges, more often than not scaring her for her dear cards, sometimes smoother and softer, where he looked like the dealer of those high-ranked poker parties she used to watch with Sora back during their Academia days (he’d often than not try stealing some of their gains, squeezing his small body under the table and between high-ranked officers’ feet. He had _never_ gotten caught, not even suspected, during that, somehow).

After a few games, though, she started to tune in on what he had to say during the games. He usually didn’t comment on his hand or her plays: for someone so against lies, he was good at keeping a poker face and not letting his thoughts show up on his face or words. Instead, he’d go through old memories, mentioning people she didn’t know anything about, but with whom she was getting familiar.

“Ruri used to always ask me about what time it was,” he told her as they played yet another game of _Ecarté, _a small smirk on his face. “I think I told we’d buy her a watch, one time.” His expression darkened. “We never got to do so.”

She preferred not to insist on his sister’s abduction.

“She did?”

“Yeah. I’ve always had a watch on me for as far as I can remember, but she didn’t. She preferred wearing jewellery, so I’d usually make or buy her bracelets. I had a friend who was good at that.”

“We’d get along well, then. We were forbidden from wearing a lot of things in the military,” she stared at the bracelet she was wearing on the wrist not occupied with the sinister machinery equipped on her, “but I’ve always worn a bracelet. I think that one was the first I could afford for myself.”

He finished dealing the cards.

“You take the first turn.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

When they played, they were mostly silent. They preferred focusing on the game, on their hands, on their next move and on what the other was going to think and do about what they were about to throw onto the table. At that point, they had been set in the others’ rules enough not to ask any question, making games feel more like a competition than just a way to kill the time they had too much of on their hands. Focusing on something else was a nice temporary medicine to the illness that they had been forcefully and artificially infected with.

Games were sometimes quicker than expected or dragged on for an hour just because they had started chatting instead of playing, or because their next move was crucial enough to overthink it for hours. In the end, they just ended up dropping the cards altogether to chat and get to know each other even further, because anything was good to kill time and, as it turned out, talking with Kurosaki about whatever came to their mind and sharing comfortable silences was a nice way to waste their own waking moments.

In fact, she may have called it actually using this “free” time for something positive. It was a welcome change of atmosphere and she hoped that, somewhere out there, Sora was happy for her about this, watching over her with a lollipop in his mouth.

“Your turn, Kurosaki.”


	13. Intermission IV: Jawbreaker Bowl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [???]  
Let’s all destroy Academia together, guys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I can never get this chapter's word order right lmao, I've struggled *that* badly with it. Even now I almost got it wrong again. I am a professional writer you guys I promise.  
This Intermission contains another predicatble, yet important twist, so I'm really happy to have it out there now. I'm kinda curious to see how people will react to it.

He’s about to exit their table and leave the place altogether when his two best friends rush to their mouths to discuss some last-minute elements.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Yuya asks for the fifth time in the day, still worried, still so sweetly _caring_.

“Yep! Can’t be worse than havin’ to fake your own death, can it?”

He gets hit by a tap to the arm by his other best friend.

“Geez, stop it with the death jokes! You know this is a serious issue there, Sora!” Yuzu adds with the tap, cheeks puffed, but eyes reflecting what she truly feels: concern. So much of it, in fact, that it’s sickening to see.

“I’m ready. I’ve been so fuckin’ ready for it, in fact, that I wanna leave _now_ and finally take down some assholes!”

Yuya and Yuzu stare at each other from across the table.

“You’re sure it’s not dangerous to go alone, Sora?” He questions again, fiddling with his hands under the table.

“I mean,” Sora crosses his arms against the back of his head and pushes his chair backwards, “you can always join if you’re _that_ worried. I’ve heard Gongenzaka wanted to join too, and you’re both not too bad at fightin’.” He winks. “Or so I’ve heard.”

His eyes start shining with the appeal of vengeance and companionship all the same.

“In fact, it’d be even better if you came! Let’s all destroy Academia together, guys!”

If there’s one thing that Sora would have never admitted during his time as an Academia soldier, it’s that he’s always craved for partners. He wanted to tease someone, to laugh with a friend, to be able to rely on a companion when things will inevitably go sour. There’s just something sweeter than candy and spicier than pepper to sharing an intense experience or going on a perilous adventure with friends. There simply isn’t and that’s why he had been a terrible soldier until Selena came along.

Ah, Selena… He misses her and her blunt words, her rare laugh, her proud smirks. In truth, he’s missed her ever since they got torn apart from each other, when he got thrown into a jail after getting found out and trialled right after it in some rigged fake-ass court session. She watched him get sentenced to death. Maybe she even watched his execution, the one he managed to escape from with a gunshot wound to the chest (but at least his plan worked: protect your heart and it’ll be fine, these soldiers really were too metaphorical for their own good), without knowing he survived thanks to the last gift she had made him: an amulet of sorts, made out of titanium, where she had engraved his favourite Arcana, the one he’s always had up his sleeve since then: the Fool.

He’s still furious about what happened to her. He needs to go and save her, that’s why he’s become so impatient about going face to face with Academia.

But like he wants to desperately get Selena, his first real friend, back from Academia’s blood-stained claws, he doesn’t want to leave the friends he’s made in the Pendulum Faction behind. Yuya and Yuzu are his friends just as much as Selena is, and Gongenzaka is a companion he likes to tease. While Sora has never dared to tell Yuya his father is the “mole” he keeps mentioning when speaking about having contacts in Academia that are still operating, in fear of the son to become irrational enough to jeopardize the father’s already-delicate position and mission, he also wants to show Yuya how great Yusho Sakaki has been to the Resistance’s cause before his very eyes.

It isn’t like his three newest friends are bad at fighting either. Yuzu’s always been good at physical fights: they’ve sparred together enough for her to have shown her potential and to have assimilated most of his Academia-taught techniques. Yuya and Gongenzaka joined them soon enough to have learnt from him too. They’re ready enough for this.

Adaptation and timing are the most important things anyway. There’s no use lying around waiting for something to change when acting as soon as possible is what really matters on the battlefield. And, as it stands, Sora believes with burning intensity that his friends can adapt to it as long as they don’t directly attack the ranks.

“You really think we could do it?” Yuzu asks, picking in the cup in the centre of the table and popping a sour candy in her mouth. “This is war, not just some game.”

“That’s why I want us to do a guerrilla, not just attack them from upfront, silly! We’re all gonna die if we don’t do that!”

“You told us you had backup in Academia’s ranks, right?” Yuya doesn’t seem any more convinced to come with him (not that Sora would ever be able to push himself to force his best friend…).

“Yep! There’s one supervisor, an elite soldier and one prison guard. There may be other moles in there, but I only know about those three. We usually don’t talk about them a lot to protect their anonymity, y’know? It’d be super bad for them to be caught!”

“Oh, yeah, that’s true,” Yuya nods, the concern on his face disappearing slightly. “You think we’ll be able to leave the battle, if it goes wrong?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“Very little chances. But also very little chances that this is gonna fail.”

Yuya and Yuzu stare at each other, dumbfounded. The response isn’t what they expected, Sora supposes, shrugging his shoulders.

“Academia’s already rottin’ from the inside. There are tons of disagreements between the big bosses of it and soldiers are startin’ to see through their game. We’re gonna make them pay, no matter the cost.”

His tone drops to seriousness and he stares at his friends, suddenly creeped out by the eerily serious voice he’s adopted to talk about what will; indeed, be war on Academia.

“They’re busy tryin’ to dissuade the population of Fusion into not going against them and oppressin’ Synchro. That’s what some other Resistants have told me, at least.”

“Wait, you’re actually part of them?!” Yuzu yells, eyes shimmering.

“I forgot to tell you? Please s’cuse me for that!”

Feeling pride blooming in his chest, Sora crosses his arms and puts one of the candies on the table into his own mouth.

“I asked to join the Resistance a few days ago! It’s a _pain_ to contact them, but I’m gonna meet this dude named Yuto, and,” he displays the pendulum around his neck, wrapped in a red piece of fabric, “we’re gonna conclude an alliance. We ain’t gonna be alone in this, guys!”

Yuya seems either proud, relieved or both to see his friend show them the gift he’s received from his faction of adoption. The shame and hostility Sora displayed when first meeting them has finally melted into a new kind of pride, that he feels legitimate to feel and that doesn’t involve throwing people under the bus like serving Academia meant to him before, showing a distinctive sign with his direct involvement displayed for everyone to see is just a sign of it. All thanks to his friends and personal resilience.

“Wait, does that mean we can join?” Yuya asks, eyes sparkling with hope. “I want to meet all these great people you’ve mentioned!”

“Yeah, sure,” Sora replies nonchalantly, falling back inside his chair. “I’ll just have to ask them if it’s fine for the three of you to join once I’m in. You should ask Gongenzaka in case he doesn’t want to, even if I doubt it.”

“We really are going to do it!” Yuzu doesn’t even bother hiding her excitement, rising a fist to the sky and holding Yuya’s wrist in her other.

As she lets go of her childhood friend’s hand, the latter puts his in the middle of the table, right above the bowl, and smiles to the both of them, eyes sparkling with determination and hope. The message’s obvious, so Yuzu and Sora only glance at each other for a moment before nodding. Yes, everything’s always been so crystal-clear between them that it’s almost blinding.

As such, and even if it’s cliché, the three of them pile their hands together at the centre of the table, right above the jawbreakers, as a sign of allegiance and friendship. It’d have sickened Sora beyond belief before, before he met Selena and discovered what having a companion really meant, before seeing through Academia’s cheating hand; but he’s entirely fine with Yuya’s silly ideas and Yuzu’s almost naïve enthusiasm. They’re the _best_.

Yeah, they’re the best friends the world has ever known, and Sora’s looking forward to showing that to the Resistance and Academia.

But, for now, Sora has someone to meet and convince, and he doesn’t intend on letting his three friends down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah. I'm pretty certain this expected plot twist and Sora's character here won't make everyone agree in unison. I'm still really happy to have him around for this story lmao  
And this was this week's BWI update! Next time, we'll come back to Ruri in... an odd way. A very odd way, in fact. I can't wait for you to know how, so see you there, and thank you for reading BWI! I promise it'll be worth it in the end!


	14. Act V, Scene 1: Birds Without a Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SHUN]  
_ There was no relief to be had in torture. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome to yet another Act of BWI!  
The idea for this chapter (and Act) was one of the first I got for BWI and I'm ecstatic to unveil it! It's... it's angsty tho, alright, but if you stuck around, it's most likely for dat thick angst.  
This is where the story truly starts to pick up in pace, and lemme tell you, it's going to be a ride you can't get off from!  
I'm afraid I'll spoil anything big if I babble too much, so... here you go.

Shun was kind of shocked at the fact he had woken up naturally, coming back from a “night” where no noise had disturbed him and where nothing else had managed to trouble his sleep. Despite their current conditions, he still managed to sleep soundly, which made little sense, of course, but it had made killing _that_ time _much_ easier on his mind. He still woke up before Tsukimori, though, as he could hear from her light snoring and lying form; that hadn’t changed.

Honestly, he had forgotten what sleeping without worrying about getting attacked in the dark of the night or getting woken up by the knocks of desperate comrades felt like. Not a bad feeling to remember, for once. In fact, seeing how everything seemed to align perfectly, with Tsukimori looking better than she had ever done (in their, like, four days of knowing each other), he almost tricked himself into thinking this wasn’t going to be so bad, “today”.

He was, of course, very wrong about that, but that surprised no one.

The room waiting for them this time was another of these very suspicious, very bland rooms, aside from the fact its white blankness had been replaced with blue neon lights going across the rooms, some of them forming a rectangle shape around what seemed to be something with a different lighting. In fact, it looked purple, rather than blue or black, distinguishing itself from the rest. Or, well, as he’d elegantly put it: it was suspicious, and so on purpose. Nothing had ever been left to chance in their labyrinthic journey.

They walked across the room with slow, doubting footsteps, eyes and ears all wide open to notice the danger and traps as soon as they’d appear before them. As soon as they walked part the door to the next trial, they couldn’t take it any easy. It was survival on the battlefield, nothing less brutal that than. They both knew it very well, by that point of mental exhaustion about everything this “Daedalus” stood for.

Tsukimori ran to the other side of the room, eye catching the odd detail he had also noticed about it: the door being open, revealing another source of light altogether, dim beams infiltrating the blue air of the room. As it stood… the exit was already there, jaw opened for them to walk into. Was it a fake? There had to be a catch to it. There _must_ have been some fucked-up catch to it. There wasn’t anything that wasn’t suspicious about such a sudden act of kindness, or rather, of despicable pity.

On top of the door was a black screen displaying in red characters “5:00”, which he immediately associated with a countdown. There was no way they were giving them the pleasure of knowing what time it was when they had purposely taken away from them both of their watches. They wanted to drive them insane, not suddenly accommodate them, right? What was next, just handing them their freedom only to shoot them in the back?

Unlike Tsukimori, who was waving at him and yelling his name as so he’d join her to exit the room (for someone who had shown herself to be careful before, this was peculiarly impatient and reckless of her), Shun took his time, paying attention to the pressure of the ground under his feet and to the walls, to everything that could have contained a trap, from the neon lights to the countdown screen.

He eventually arrived in front of the weird source of light. It was unusually purple, fusing with the blue all around them yet never truly fading into it, stubbornly keeping its individuality distinguished from the rest of the room; although all it seemed to have ever been was another screen spewing that light into the otherwise blue space, dripping in little beams. Nothing of importance, and he was about to just scratch that and walk up to Tsukimori to escape one trial unscathed, grumbling on the inside about what had essentially been uselessly worrying over something that had never been there.

Then it revealed itself to have been a curtain all along, some kind of slim and mechanical curtain that hid behind itself a whole other world, a world he hadn’t seen in what felt like ages, a world that he yet didn’t want to see this way. Not there, not now, not with what he was being shown. It was, in fact, a crushing sight to behold when he was a bird trapped in a cage, kept there by sadistic owners who just didn’t seem to want to put him down just yet despite having no use for him.

Before a voiceless Shun was Ruri, hands against the window.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted the countdown starting to deplete, but his attention was soon entirely focused on his sister’s face. She had barely changed since he had last seen her, her hair just having grown out and her face looking a bit less tired, albeit not less anxious. She was as astonished as she was to see him that he was about finally reuniting with her, finally seeing her alive and somewhat sound and safe, looking less like a prisoner and more like an overly sheltered princess.

He frankly wanted to just hug her and get her out of this place, blow the entire labyrinth up and escape with Tsukimori by his side and his sister in his arms; but the glass was thick and there was no hammer lying around. Punching it wouldn’t make anything get better even if he felt the deepest urge to just break the entire thing and escape through the hole, giving his hand to Tsukimori and destroy the cage Ruri had been put him.

Instead, all he could do was swallow his stupidly naïve urges and wallow in his frustration.

“Ruri!” He yelled, fists hitting the glass. “Is that you?! Are you okay?!”

From the other side, she seemed to be calling for him, yet he didn’t hear even a single noise. It was like nothing even came out of throat, as if her voice was nothing but _silence_.

“Fucking hell, don’t tell me that… _Of course_ they’d have done that!”

He could hear Tsukimori’s echoing footsteps coming towards him more than the voice he had longed to hear again for weeks on end, for days and nights, waking up in a cold sweat as long as he’d see her getting muted by force. This… wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

“Ruri! Ruri, please… Please give me a sign, anything!”

As he stumbled on his words, he could see her face distort in anguish, pained at the same realization that he was currently going through: they couldn’t hear each other. The window they had been given had been a trap meant to hit them in the back. There was no relief to be had in torture.

“Fuck this…”

He lacked the strength to scream, or even the will to do so. He was furious, blood boiling throughout his body from the top of his head to the edge of his toe; and yet he couldn’t even let out a yell of frustration. He couldn’t find in himself the strength to wind out his frustration in a roar against Academia, against all of this, against the world as he saw it through his oppressed eyes.

No hope, no comfort. Just more and more pain, piling up to the point they were starting to crush what little hope he had started to make for himself to escape from there with Selena.

Yet, in adversity, he still found comfort in a little thing he had shared with Ruri for a long time: a way to communicate they had had since their childhood. An act of rebellion when they weren’t able to whisper to each other in people’s backs, when the soldiers would try and stop them from living. Of course, reading on someone else’s lips had never been his specialty or even something he enjoyed doing, but it’d have to do, because they still wanted to speak to each other.

“Love you,” he first told her through forced moves of the lips. “I’ve missed you, Ruri”.

The little smile on her face was more than worth the effort.

“Love you too, big brother,” she replied with a frustrated frown and her hands put right against his on the other side of the glass. “Missed you too”.

He couldn’t not let a painful smile make it onto his own mouth, despite the conditions and despite the urge to tear up washing all over him like a coast during a tempest. He had never wanted to see her this alone, this abandoned by providence.

“I’ll come and get you,” he continued, still silently, albeit he was retaining a hiccup or two on the inside of his throat.

Ruri shook her head, hands still on the glass, as he glanced at the clock. He had only had thirty seconds left, Tsukimori yelling in his direction to come over (but, as strange as it was, he didn’t hear her either, as if his ears had shut down entirely to make up for his sour disappointment). He stared at Ruri for a last moment, managed to squeeze in a last sentence.

“Take care, I’m coming.”

Shun left right as the curtains fell over, rushing through the doorway as the countdown ticked down in its last seconds, trying not to look back at the face of his sister, trying to put the pain and the sorrow aside even if just for one more second, one more short-lived attempt at moving on from the anguish he had just been put through. As it stood, sticks and stones would never break his bones, but being unable to communicate and getting his voice stolen did much more than that to him.

He wouldn’t forgive them for stealing Ruri’s voice along with his.


	15. Act V, Scene 2: Tears That Cannot Be Shed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ “Are you okay?” felt like insulting him by spitting in his face what would have looked like false concern. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is absolutely a big one I was really excited for. I'm afraid too much banter will spoil the fun, though, so I'll leave it at that.

Kurosaki was on the verge of _crying_.

That statement, for some reason, felt very wrong to Selena. Everyone cried one day or the other: she had cried before, she had seen Sora cry before, even fellow soldiers had shed tears before. It wasn’t even like it was surprising to see him cry, as she had seen it coming: Kurosaki had hung his head down as soon as the window had shut its curtains, his walking patterns had been sad to witness to say the least; the experience of seeing a missed one but being unable to talk to them properly must have been soul-crushing enough for him not to be able to come over it like he had brushed every off until now.

As she thought that, she wondered if she wouldn’t have been crushed by reuniting with Sora but being unable to speak with him directly. Military training could have never made her adapt to such a peculiar kind of mourning.

She didn’t know what to say or do about the situation. She didn’t know the Kurosaki siblings even close to enough to guess what would have soothed his pain. Was he someone who’d rather forget and bottle everything up? Someone who needed to talk about it, even if it was in disjointed yells and choking sobs? Neither of those? Heh, she didn’t expect to be able to put aside some of her suggestions, as if she had started to know Kurosaki since then.

To be fair, they were closer to being friends than complete strangers to each other, by that point. It was normal for her to have developed a bond with the only other person she had had to share such a tedious experience with. In short, it was perfectly fine for her to feel the concern currently welling inside her heart. It was… rational.

This didn’t, however, make Selena come up with anything she could have done or said to come to his aid. Instead, she just watched Kurosaki fold on himself, like he had never opened up to her, arms crossed around his knees, head hidden behind his elbows; but the sobs still made themselves known by escaping from the field of sight onto that of hearing, even if he tried to trap them in as much as possible. For the first time, she felt like he was helpless, but needed that help more than anyone else, because his one source of comfort had been twisted into a poisoned gift. The sudden shock had been a breaking point, she supposed. What an ugly sight to behold.

“Are you okay?” felt like insulting him by spitting in his face what would have looked like false concern. “What’s wrong?” would just rub more salt in the wound by sounding ignorant and uncaring. “How can I help you?” only sounded generic and vaguely unhelpful. Questions simply didn’t cut it, yet brash sentences didn’t. As it stood, she couldn’t open the conversation, she had to let him get eaten up by his own sorrow until he’d be willing to listen to someone that wasn’t Ruri.

Because of her uselessness against the situation, Selena decided to just go through her tarot cards, looking at the illustrations again, remembering about the times Sora had taught her how to predict someone’s destiny. While neither of them had ever believed in the concept itself of fate, both born sceptics but Sora even more-so than her, it had always been fun to play around with the cards and see what stories he could come up with on the spot based on what little some pieces of paper could have told about someone’s future.

She knew these by heart, still spending more time on the Empress, Moon and Fool more than the other cards. She had no reason to browse through them again, as they had never changed, which made sense for cards of all things: she was only doing it to ignore the choked sobs next to her, unable to do anything because, as far as she was concerned, she had never been a smooth talker and would have rather used her fists and kicks rather than having to speak her way out of this.

Too bad Kurosaki was as bad of a talker as she was.

“…Tsukimori,” she finally heard, her head immediately shifting to face him.

He had unburied his face from his elbows, which were still tied around his legs, eyes reddened and shining under the artificial lights, yet never truly shedding a tear, despite his lips slightly bawling and the hiccups she could still see racking his chest.

“Please tell me we’re going to escape from this shitty hole of a place soon.”

At first, she didn’t quite know what to tell him. Yes? No? She didn’t know herself. Was there an exit? Of course, or at least there sure had been one at some point, but was it accessible to them? Not sure, probably not, but she couldn’t let herself get crushed by that possibility. If she had to dig her own exit out of this place, she would, and most likely drag Kurosaki down the hole with her.

“We’ll get the hell out of here as soon as possible, Kurosaki. I promise.”

He forced a smirk on his lips. His hardened features just screamed “fake”, absolutely repulsive. What had happened to the one person who told her that it was “good” that she never lied? Well, she asked herself this, until she remembered the cameras still stared at them. In such a moment of intimacy and hardship, having those indiscreet minds _prey_ on their feelings like vultures around a dying animal was at the very least despicable, and she wouldn’t stand for it.

“Kurosaki, mind coming with me?”

“W-why?” His voice sounded as miserable as he looked, biting her lip.

“Just come. Don’t ask questions.” She was too harsh, wasn’t she? Ah, shit… “I meant to say, I’ll explain everything to you once we get there, okay?”

“Sure, if you say so…”

He seemed doubtful, but rose from the bed and followed her without a word to the bathroom nonetheless, cries still trying to escape from his hardened walls, presumably having guessed what was planning without a word. A silence and suspicious movement was always better in this giant breach of privacy, to their renegade souls.

Once they had both gotten there, Selena closed the door, locking it behind them, checking one last time if there wasn’t any camera or microphone hiding there. There was tiny thing near the sink that she suspected to be a microphone having sneakily been placed there, that she quickly proceeded to damage with a punch (it was most likely too resistant to be broken entirely, but that’d already parasite what they’d be saying. It was good enough, for now).

She invited him to sit on the ground (there wasn’t really a more comfortable spot that the tiled floor in this room), but he preferred to stay up with his back against the wall as she went to instead sit on what was the undeniably only somewhat comfortable place in there, the toilet bowl. They looked ridiculous, no doubt about it, but there wasn’t a point to be made about that when they were unseen from the world, just two persons in the same enclosed space. That was the one advantage they had been accidentally given.

“If you need me to leave, just tell me,” she then told him, trying to avoid directly staring at his disheartened face. She simply couldn’t stand seeing him this way, this fragile, when he had always looked so much stronger than her, like he was made out of diamond, an unbreakable force found in the rough. That was a coward move on her part, she had to admit.

“…then why bring me there?”

“Thought you wouldn’t want to cry in front of their eyes.”

Kurosaki stared at her, lip still moving on its own, eyes trying to look fierce but only giving themselves a pathetic attempt at doing that, eyebrows pretending to be angry but only showing dismay.

“Don’t look at me like that, Kurosaki. Don’t pretend like you don’t, it’s plastered all over your face.”

“I…”

“You also don’t wanna do that in front of me, right? I’ll take my leave then, take all the time you need.”

She jumped up from the bowl, landing on her feet and walking past him, until his hand slightly moved, and his voice came back to her ears.

“I…”

“Hm?”

“Never mind…”

He sniffled, putting his face against his forearm, looking away.

“You know, Kurosaki,” she stepped closer to him, “I’m not the kind to just tell someone else about what I feel either.”

He gave her an almost timid look, the kind she’d give to her superiors when she had to admit she had contributed to the treason by having been Sora’s friend, the one she had given to the judges during her trial. It was painful to see herself in a fearful version of her companion.

“If you need someone to confess something to, you can fetch me up, okay? I’ve never been a smooth talker, but I’d rather try helping you than watch you try not to cry.”

He snickered, even if she could hear a sob in there and see a tear stealthily escaping from one of his eyes.

“See you later, Kurosaki. Take care.”

On that, Selena left the room, scratching the tiniest of itches on the back of her neck, quite proud of herself for managing to muster up the speaking skills to get her friend to calm down about keeping his sorrow bottled up. Sometimes, people needed to cry, and that was okay. As opposed to everything she had ever been taught, she was now discovering the use of letting your worst feelings spill out, in the void or to someone of trust. If she could allow Kurosaki to understand that when she was herself still somewhat struggling with not keeping everything to herself, if she could make him get what Sora had had to taught her before, then she’d have succeeded at doing something she hadn’t been taught by Academia, and she’d be able to feel proud of herself without resorting to twisted morals of any kind.

She went back to looking through her cards, shuffling them over and over again, before trying to guess someone’s fortune with what little she remembered of her first friend’s teaching about it from what now felt like a decade ago.


	16. Intermission V: Big Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [RURI]  
_ The guy on there’s Shun, right? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Ruri's POV for this week's Intermission! The title is a pun and a half and I'll happily confess to my word crimes.  
It also has a conversation I loved writing, so this is another thing you should most likely look forward too in this chapter.

In a way, Ruri’s just become like all the Fusion people watching a despicable TV reality show whose stakes are way over everyone’s heads. She’s anxiously going to be looking forward to the next broadcast of “Black-Winged Icarus”, the next viral sensation amidst Academia hallways. Everyone around her seems to be talking about it, about the next thing they’re going to see these two protagonists go through, the despicable traitress to the Academia cause and her unwitting companion, the Xyz Resistant scum.

In short, Ruri’s watching every evening her brother and his companion in misfortune suffer through losing their touch with the world, trapped between white walls and watched all day by hundreds of cameras, seeing people in intimacy she should have never been offered the opportunity to look into, an intimacy she can only close her eyes to because the screen in her room won’t listen to her pleas to stop showing her this degenerate intrusion of privacy.

Only Crow and Yuto listen to her anyway, in this prison; and the one time, the one time she was _finally_ able to see that her brother, her _dear big brother_, _finally_ able to confirm that he was in fact _alive_ and not already gone with his existence forcefully erased from the popular conscience, they weren’t able to hear each other’s voice. Weren’t able to utter a word to the other that wasn’t a silent “I love you” or “take care, I’m coming”.

He told her he’d come. Shun told her he was coming to get her, to rescue her, but she doesn’t even know where he is. Does he know where he himself is? Has he promised this to her as to reassure her, to make her feel less alone? He hasn’t seen Crow, he can’t have known she was already in contact with Yuto, Kaito, Allen, Sayaka and everyone else in the Resistance through her messenger and the gift Shun and Yuto had made for her all these years ago.

He can’t have learnt about this, can’t have stopped worrying about her because she got rendered unable to tell him all of this information.

So, instead, all she can do is watch her brother on the TV that just won’t _not_ show her these images, surfacing when the broadcast would begin and sinking back into the ground when it’ll end.

“Hey,” Crow calls out to her as she’s clenching her fists in frustration, trying not to swear her head off at the screen.

Surprised, Ruri jumps on herself, almost tripping on her own feet as she bolts upwards and walks to the bars. If she isn’t mistaken, Crow’s just arrived to ensure the evening shift, still slightly breathless from the staircases he’s had to go up to join his corridor of affectation. And yet, his warm smile still beams upon her, making her feel better by just looking at him.

“I hadn’t heard you coming, Crow!”

“Hehe, sorry! I didn’t exactly knock on the door!”

Not against the distraction, as he won’t push her to watch the broadcast forced onto her eyes and mind. Out of sight, out of mind isn’t a principle they’ve agreed to let her have, so she forces it on herself as not to feel like a violator. Tough act to keep up with when the only thing she’s been in for days is her prison cell.

Crow doesn’t look any happier than she is at that sight either. He’s never assured the night shift yet, so he’s seeing by his own two eyes what she’s forced to watch by her captors (not that he didn’t believe her as soon as she complained about it to him), sighing in exasperation as he stares at the screen still playing the images, still broadcasting a witty narration over horrifying footage. Seeing his disapproving stance and eyes makes for a nice distraction, at least.

“Huh, so _that’s_ the show the others keep talkin’ about,” he says with a deadpanning face, arms crossed on his chest. “Fuckin’ degenerates.”

“I know, right? I wish I could save them from that hell… but we don’t even know where it’s set…”

“You and I same, Ruri. I’d have blown up the entire thing already if I could.”

Crow’s eyes quickly drift to the screen, before he gulps and his face sours.

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s just fucked up…”

“What do you…” Her voice gets strangled by her throat shrinking on itself. “Oh…”

Before her very eyes, Ruri is watching what happened earlier in the day, the daytime nightmare she was forced through by some horrendous scheme. She sees herself behind the window giving on the Daedalus, the one she’s still seeing in the corner of her eye, its curtains closed as they were before that horrible moment of truth, tapping against the glass before realizing it’d be useless, that it was always meant to pain her and make him despair before his inability to actually communicate with her.

They _muted_ his voice. Even now, even when faced with another point of view, even when watching the same events unfold through the eyes of the cameras, she can’t hear Shun’s voice, not hear a single word he attempted to tell her, his fists pounding the walls and window unheard. They’ve stolen his voice along with hers, and that makes her blood boil. First they imprisoned him for fighting for justice, then they subjected him to seeing her without being able to talk, and eventually they removed his words from collective memory? That’s _cruel_! Plainly and simply _cruel_!

The TV shuts down with no warning, barely noticed by her mind too riddled with the horror of having to watch that on every evening from now on. Yet, maybe the horror steams from knowing she’ll still be dependant on it to know what’s going to happen to her brother next, as nobody else could tell her, not even Crow. She’s stuck with watching that bullshit for any unfiltered information that could slip up from their totalitarian control on Shun and his companion’s words.

“Geez, these guys really are goin’ all out with it… The guy on there’s Shun, right?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Must be such a pain for you to have to watch that… If I could open your cell, believe me, I’d give you one big hug, but I don’t have the keys to the lock.”

She lets out a small amused puff.

“Thank you for the consideration, Crow. I really appreciate it.”

He puts his back against the bars of the cell, gliding down them as he sat down next to her on the other side.

“Hey, what if, instead of giving Academia the time or thoughts, you told me about your bro? You’ve told me about Yuto before, and I’ve met him, he’s a really cool dude. Oh, I almost forgot,” he gets her hairpin out of his pocket, “here you go! Yuto seemed really excited to give you this, he was blushin’ and stuff. Ah, youthful love…”

He can’t be that much older than them, so that’s amusing to hear coming from him, if not a little hypocritical.

“That’s true, I’ve never told you too much about Shun… Aside from the fact he’s a targeted criminal and prisoner, that is, but there’s a lot more to him than just that, of course. It’s weird for me to get asked to say things about him, usually, people know him more than they know me. It’s odd.”

“I assume you’ve been in his shadow for a long time?”

“Pretty much. I wish he’d give me more freedom, but I get what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to shelter me from the world, and I’m thankful for that, but I feel like it’s also my time to shine, you know? Is that bad from me? Is that ungrateful?”

“Nah, of course it ain’t ungrateful. He’s just an overly protective big brother, and we tend to get kind of really fuckin’ dumb when we don’t get reminded not to be, so just tell ’im, m’kay? I can always do that for you if you’re too scared, when we’ll have rescued him from there!”

The fire in his eyes and voice wasn’t put out by the broadcast, that’s for sure.

“Yeah. I’ll do that once we’re all free.”

“That’s the spirit!”

His face, however, softens as they look at each other.

“Y’know, Ruri, you remind me of some kids from the orphanage…”

“I do?”

“Yeah. You _really_ look like a girl I know from there. She’s called Rin and she’s kind of my lil’ sis, it’s like I’ve always known her. It’s also like you’re her secret twin!”

“I see… I hope she’s doing well.”

“Oh, she’s recently joined the Resistance, and dragged along our good friend Yugo with her.” He chuckles. “Come to think of it, that guy really looks like Yuto. It’s like I’m surrounded by secret twins that got separated at birth or somethin’.”

She laughs.

“That’s one enormous coincidence you’re telling me about here, Crow. I want to meet them, now, especially if we’re comrades. I didn’t know Synchro people were involved in the Resistance.”

“Well… There’s very few of us, truth be told, but we exist and we intend on supporting the network as much as we can. I’ve almost managed to drag my best friends in it with me, but Jack’s still telling me he prefers remaining stealthy about it due to his high-ranking position in Academia’s entertainment industry… Yusei’s totally on board, though.”

“Jack? Yusei?”

“My childhood friends. We’re all orphans, but it’s like we’ve always been meant to know each other. I should introduce you to them, and to Rin and Yugo one of these days. I’m sure you’ll at least get along with these two, they’re around your age and they’re full of life, just like you.”

“Let’s also do that once we’re all free from Academia’s claws then. But, first, could you tell me more about them? I’m curious.”

If Ruri can’t physically escape from jail or isn’t able to go out and save her brother from the prison he’s currently trapped in, she’ll escape from Academia through discussions and thoughts, a sort of spiritual escapade nobody can prevent her from doing. Left alone in a cage until Crow comes back with news from the outside and plenty of anecdotes, trivia and story shoved in his pockets to generously give to her, she’ll find her way to break out from the imprisonment.

If there’s nothing she can do for herself or her big brother for now, surely, she’ll find a way out of the situation for the both of them sooner or later, together with her friends, with her comrades; and that in itself is just enough for now. She has to be patient, she has to bear the pain for now, the broadcasts and the worries, because she’ll shine tomorrow and save what’s dear to her. She’ll be watching over her big brother, one way or the other, now that he’s the one who needs her help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this week's update of BWI! See you next week for a bath of scarlet...


	17. Act VI, Scene 1: Girl in Scarlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ You’re sure you’re not forgetting something there, Selena? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the seventh update of this story! This week has the biggest first chapter yet, and man is it one I was super hyped to unveil. It's more intense than everything that's happened this far, so I hope you'll like reading it as much as I liked writing it! It does include some blood and less tasteful content and elements, so I'd advise viewer discretion.

Frankly, the room they entered next was gorgeous. It was decorated like the palaces she had been described to having once belonged to the Fusion people, before the war between factions started. If that was what it looked like, maybe their grudges against the others had been the tiniest bit of justified. She felt almost intimidated to walk on the bright red carpets, too low to belong to the higher spheres, a soldier setting foot where only the leaders deserved to be.

What had given her the honour to be walking on the floor that, no doubt, the best leaders Fusion had left their footprints on? The ones Academia hadn’t respected the wishes of by stealing their prestige and dirtying it with innocents’ insides? Had they changed their ways and come back to their roots, to where her kind came from and where they had started? Too beautiful to be true, too sudden to be real; too beautiful not to be believed, too sudden not to be appreciated compared to the whites and distant sterilized smells she had gone through.

“General Tsukimori, we were waiting for you,” a voice suddenly came to her ears.

Arriving to her was a man around her age dressed in a guard’s uniform, albeit the golden lining replacing the usual red lines of these outfits gave him a regal look to him. He vaguely reminded her something with his spiky blue hair, perhaps a comrade she had once shared a battalion or a squad with. While she didn’t know why she was awaited, she merely followed: the answer would naturally come to her, if she was patient enough.

“I see you are not wearing your official garments. Let me fetch them for you, my General. I shall be back with them soon.”

Oh, right, she remembered now. She was soon going to attend the first anniversary of the Second Faction War ending. It made sense for her to get prepared soon: being on time was of the upmost importance, especially on such grand instances. She had gotten to this prestigious rank from winning the war for a new Fusion, a new Academia she had helped reform, back to the glory she had always desired it to see it have. It had ended in a flawless victory.

_You’re sure you’re not forgetting something there, Selena?_

A high-pitched, almost feminine voice rang through her ears, right under her right shoulder. However, when she turned her head around to see who it came from, there was nobody standing near her, not even behind her back. As ghosts weren’t real (they had never been more than a widespread legend), as spirits couldn’t speak if they had ever existed, and as someone had made her the offense of calling her directly by her given name, she had to find the culprit.

But nobody was there, aside from the aura that Sora had always left behind him. It couldn’t have been the case: Sora had been dead for more than a year. She had restored his honour and given him a proper burial, instead of having him hang around the morgue. Was her mind playing tricks on her? If that was the case, it was bad. Awful, she shall have added. Someone may have poisoned her drink without her knowledge. Vengeful renegades weren’t anything new nor rare.

“Here you go, my general,” he told her as he gave her a prestigious outfit, the suit of the generals of the new and reformed Academia. She had chosen the exact tint of scarlet she had wanted on hers. Good memories of her success taking a physical form.

She directly went to her private quarters, where she quickly striped down from the civilian clothes she had been wearing (where did these even come from?) and put on the golden, scarlet and blue silky fabrics, looking into the mirror to see how the shoulder pads and draping looked on her figure. Through her outfit would, for once, shine through her importance.

_Really, Selena? You, going back to your old soldier ways like nothing happened? I’m disappointed._

The childish voice came back again, except she could see the person speaking in the looking glass now. Standing right behind her was a fallen comrade, smirking as he sucked on one of his infamous lollipops (they had forbidden him from eating these on the job, but he had always disobeyed that and continued to do whatever he wanted), dressed just the way she had last seen him free and alive.

“Sora?!” Selena yelped, breathing accelerating and sweat pearling down her temples. “You… How… You’re supposed to… How are you here?!”

_I’m supposed to be dead, that was you were going to say, right? Guess why. _

“This… This makes no sense.” She shook her head, but Sora remained on his feet, with only the smirk gone. “Someone laced my drink earlier.”

_Yeah, sure, tell yourself that._

Selena exited her quarters, trying to ignore the echoing steps of the spirit haunting her, making her way to the reception room where she’d give out her commemorative speech. She had never been that good of a talker, but she had studied rhetoric since becoming a general, and could handle diplomatic business just fine. It was her mission and she’d accomplish it as well as she had always done until then, especially after she had been forgiven.

Even if she was the proudest of herself for having put an end to a destructive war, she had been left wondering what had happened to all of the other sides afterwards, having been busy with reforming and managing Academia. She had spared the former leaders from the death penalty, forcing them to swear allegiance to her instead. A much better punishment for those who had lacked humanity during the conflict they had themselves gotten their entire people into.

“Say,” she asked the young man accompanying her, who didn’t seem to notice Sora following her around (he had to have been in her mind), “what happened to the other factions after the war ended?”

“Oh, they all fused under our regency. You took care of the Xyz Faction in particular and gave them a spectacular send-off. I should know, I was there.”

Another memory came back to her, making her retain the urge to immediately vomit on the carpet or stab herself with the sword she had attached to her hip. She had ordered the cleansing of their population after treating for her freedom, before the reforming of Academia: exchange the freedom of the dissolved Resistance, keeping them alive, and sacrificing the lives of the three prisoners they had from that network. She had betrayed them to get away with Academia’s control.

She had become the monster she had sworn to kill.

Haunted by regrets, bile rising to her throat, stomach churning, Selena sprinted to a room she had just remembered the existence of, a room whose door had been officially condemned, that she opened with a single kick into the metal, busting the lock. She rushed inside, the truth wanting to come out of her from all possible holes she had left in what was supposed to be her iron defence of a morality, but her feet stopped right as she saw what was inside that room.

There was the corpse of a girl draped in white, around Selena’s own height and weight, the hands on her chest visible from under the thin fabric, a wing-shaped hairpin put over it as to indicate who this body used to belong to. All that was visible from her were strands of dark purple hair spread all across the floor and her face, looking oddly calm, with purpled lips. She had drunk an almond-flavoured cup of water shortly before her demise.

Then a flash of light.

_You remember, don’t you?_

Selena was back in the shoes of the traitress turned ally, holding her sabre in her hands (where did it come from?), its blade already splattered with both dried in maroon patches and wet in red splashes. Her own clothes, the ones a regular Academia soldier would wear, were just as dirty, soaked in crimson. Carrying orders, she looked coldly at the person before her.

Stood in front of her Shun Kurosaki, the newly appointed leader of the Resistance after their two previous ones had died, fingers wrapped around a large, bleeding wound to the left side of his chest, bruised everywhere else on his face, blood tricking down from his mouth. His weapon had slipped from his hand, falling into a puddle of his own fluids, as he gave her the darkest stare a dead man could have given her.

“I _trusted_ you, Tsukimori.”

_W-wait! Don’t…_

He proceeded to cough up more blood afterwards, drops of it reaching her shoes. She’d have to wash it later.

“You shouldn’t have, Xyz remnant.”

_Don’t do that! Kurosaki’s my **comrade**, not my enemy!_

A tear coursed through her cheek, but she didn’t let go of the handle nor her intentions.

“Say goodbye, Kurosaki.”

_No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong! Shun’s my **friend**!_

And she stabbed him one last time, right in the chest, watching his eyes roll back inside his brain and the last words drop from his mouth. One less piece of garbage in the world.

_He’s not a piece of garbage! Why would you even **think** that?!_

Blood poured from the new wound onto her, his blood, her body. She took out her sword, letting more of it flow, staring at his corpse hit the ground in a satisfying thumb.

_This… can’t be… Why would I…_

Her hands closed his still-opened eyes.

_Why would I kill my one and only friend?! _

Another flash of light.

_I knew you could get yourself out of it, Selena._

Her vision was blurry from tears that she couldn’t shed.

_…mori? …what’s wrong?!_

Staring at her comrade’s bloodied corpse with his eyes and mouth closed post-mortem, Selena felt her legs buckle under the weight of her sins, leaving her to be a crying mess hitting the floor with her fists, screaming for her friend’s forgiveness, for a punishment of any sorts, of something worse than death because that was what she deserved. That was until everything started to get blurry around her, shapes getting distorted before their colours vanished and blackened.

This was the end.

…the end…

…

_…kimori?! _

The voice sounded familiar.

_Tsukimori, for fuck’s sake, wake up! _

It reminded her of someone she hadn’t heard in so long, like a ghost coming back to haunt her… The shadow of a broken friendship…

_Goddammit, Tsukimori, snap out of it!!_

Her eyes snapped open to witness two hands shaking her shoulders, bringing her back to reality. Facing her was the very man she had just regretted _killing_ over some ridiculously egotistical privileges, whose yellow irises staring right inside of hers, more alive than ever. He sounded like he was in a frantic panic, voice strained from screaming, sweat pearling down his face, even if she could see the semblance of a smile form on his lips as he came into view.

She was sitting against a wall, tears still pouring from her eyes and hiccups riddling her chest.

“Thank God, you’re back…”

“S… Shun…?” Her voice had abandoned her, only leaving behind a weak version of itself for her to use anyway.

He briefly looked taken aback, his mouth opening only for no words to come out of it and for it to close again, a hint of red flashing for a moment, before actually replying.

“Yeah. That’s… still me. You’re back with us?”

Selena was honestly left speechless. She didn’t understand his questions, her thoughts too shaken by what she had just seen for her to properly express anything by words. The intensity of the feelings going through her mind and heart didn’t make it any easier, so she just shoved herself inside of his chest, hiding her tears away from him by spilling them on his clothes.

Shun didn’t add anything else (why was she even referring to him by his first name? When had this become a thing? Actually, why should it have been a problem?), merely accepting her sudden outburst, a hand on the back of her head as her weak hands grasped at his clothes.

“You… You’re still here…”

He didn’t respond anything. Instead, he slowly picked her on his back, right as she clutched her arms around his shoulders for balance. The familiarity of the gesture reminded her of something, even through her distress.

“Let’s just get to the next room. You need some rest.”

She nodded in silence as he transported her to their next destination.


	18. Act VI, Scene 2: Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ It was like she suffered from spiritual food poisoning. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a second Selena-centric chapter. It has its reasons to be so, believe me.  
I don't have a lot to say, considering it's really a follow-up to the previous chapter.

She didn’t dare giving Kurosaki a real look. Not that she deserved to face him, to even look in his direction in fact, after what had happened in that weird room. Not when she had, one way or the other, killed him with her own hands.

Her nausea remained, lingering inside her stomach, propagating to her mind and lungs. Even if she hadn’t vomited, even if she didn’t feel the urge to do so anyway, there was bile coating the inside of her mouth and throat, a bile that was able to coat other organs that had nothing to do with digestion. It was like she suffered from spiritual food poisoning: a bad, rotten memory had made its way into her system and the latter was desperately trying to reject it without actually managing to.

Sicknesses never left that easily, you couldn’t just ignore their symptoms until they’d go away. Feigning ignorance was useless: even if it hadn’t really happened, she had nonetheless tried to kill him one way or the other, and it was vivid enough in her mind to make her distrust even her limbs and thought process. If she herself didn’t know what she was capable of, then who would? Certainly not Kurosaki, who had known her for something akin to a week by now. If he remained by her side, he’d only endanger himself even further. She had to do something about it for his own safety.

“Hey, Tsukimori,” his voice suddenly echoed in the room, making her shoulders jump. “You have any idea what the hell happened back there?”

“Ah…?” Her voice sounded fake, mechanical, robotic, like she was a computer that had resorted to using safe mode to get words outside of its processor, there in substance but absent in form, reduced to basic shapes and sounds. “What do you mean?”

“You just… froze for a while, mumbling some nonsense about Academia’s glory and this Sora guy you’ve mentioned before, then started crying and fell to the floor, and that’s where you got back to your senses.”

“I… I don’t know how, but I got trapped in a sort of awaken dream… not, a nightmare. I broke out of it crying, that’s all I can remember of the moment I came back to reality.”

“Huh.”

She didn’t respond, as no word came to her mind to do so, mind blanking out on her. What an unreliable core.

“What kind of nightmare?” He ended up asking, arms and legs crossed.

Kurosaki seemed oddly curious about her story. While she’d have been content to see him open to her enough to care about her nightmares before, that one in particular just stung enough for her to originally reject the idea of telling him about his own fictive death; but he also seemed genuinely worried for her, as his eyes were noticeably less aggressive than usual, coming from nothing like morbid or perverse curiosity, but from what truly seemed to be concern coming from him. Subtle, but there, and somewhat intense despite its timidity to show itself to her.

As such, and because she would have been the biggest hypocrite to turn off the question after what had happened, Selena had to face one cruel reality: she’d have to tell him about it all, because if he was to trust her, then she was to trust him. At worse, she could always skip on the most gruesome details…

“I arrived in some ballroom of sorts, where a servant welcomed me, gave me classical military Academia apparel and told me I had recently been promoted from an elite soldier that had betrayed her nation to a general. The weirdest was that, as soon as he told me all that, I actually remembered having lived it, it all seemed normal to me.”

The words were hard on her mouth, creating hiccups in her breath as she went. Her eyes lowered, as she couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him anymore, fleeing the battle of gazes instead.

“But then, I realized what the peace had costed, the… lives of your people. I had sacrificed the Resistance… and your entire faction… to Academia to regain my freedom. I… I’d never do that, I-I swear, don’t think I… that I’d actually do that, and…”

She gulped, feeling shivers all over her body and hair rising on her arms and legs, the pain of the memories starting to eat her out like frostbites burning skin.

“And… and… there was a room where, suddenly, I was faced by… your sister dead under a drape, poisoned… And… and… you were there, s-standing before me… bloodied and injured… I had betrayed you… My other self was proud of herself for that… and she ended you with her sword…”

She rose her blood-pumped head, tears freely falling from her eyes, sobs making her hiccup, his face blurry and impossible to decipher from her point of view.

“B-but I’d never do that, I mean it! I’d never do such a thing to you, Shun! I… I’m sorry!” She choked on a sob. “I’m sorry…”

It lasted a little while, but the silence setting in was uncomfortable again, heavy on her crying lungs and deafening to her stuffed ears.

“I don’t get it.”

His tone was almost cold, his face unmoved, eyes looking straight at her with hints of doubt in them.

“W-what…?”

“I don’t get why you’re apologizing like that.”

“You… don’t…?”

Kurosaki seemed very unfazed by everything she had just thrown his way. Maybe he hadn’t gotten anything from her incoherent slurs covered in tears and sobs. Maybe that was why he didn’t know why she was apologizing, because the one thing he had gotten out of this verbal fiasco was her desperate “I’m sorry”. He was starting to confuse her again …

“None of that happened. My people are still fighting. You’re no general of Academia. And I’m still here. It’s pointless to apologize for something that hasn’t happened.”

“Huh…?” Actually, never mind her confusion, that made more sense. “You’re not… angry or anything…?”

“I’ve got no reason to be angry at you. You just scared the shit out of me when you got possessed and started mumbling about incomprehensible stuff. Don’t ever do that again, even if I doubt you _wanted_ to do all of this.”

“I guess that was today’s trial… They’re starting to go all out on us, then…”

Even if she was digging her own mood’s tomb, he gave her a tiny smirk, going as far as to move from his bed to facing her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Rising her head revealed his eyes to be containing anger, albeit anger that didn’t seem to be targeted at her.

“We’ll make them pay for that and everything else. Stop crying, now.”

He jumped in his spot, before looking back at her with a slightly flustered expression.

“Wait, no, that’s not it. Cry if you need to. Just don’t beat yourself over the head with that, that was what I was trying to say.”

He removed his hand, crossing his arms, albeit his raised shoulders indicated this wasn’t out of a want to look cool or strong. Quite the contrary, in fact, so it got a chuckle out of her. Seeing him blush in embarrassment made it even better.

“Shit, I’ve never been a smooth talker or anything, don’t look at me that way…”

“I appreciate the effort, Shu–” Oh, wait. “–Kurosaki.”

Maybe a stinky stare and a pout would work better.

“…you didn’t hear anything.”

Shoulders lightly shrugged.

“If you want.”

Silence finally felt comfortable again, _consented_ for lack of a better word, as he walked back to where he had originally been. Yet, even with that all cleared, she still wanted to do a little something before having to sleep everything off, something to truly relax and forget…

“Want to play a little game of _Écarté_?”

“Sure, why not.”

That time, they played on her bed, Kurosaki having insisted for her not to exert herself if she didn’t need to. It was like playing cards at a sleepover, like playing with Sora in their quarters with a small lamp between them as not to get caught, except it now was allowed and they played in another mood altogether. They weren’t killing time: they were enjoying it, enjoying what they little they were given, making the most out of their misery.

Misery liked company, so they’d be each other’s mate even if just for a few days, even just in acts and not in spirit; although she was starting to think there may have been more to Shun and her than what had met her eye. Were they really just inmates stuck in the world’s weirdest prison? Weren’t they just more than that, more than people forcing themselves to collaborate?

Instead of thinking, she preferred focusing on her hand and securing a victory. She wouldn’t win the war if she was too focused on her feelings and relationships.


	19. Intermission VI: Coffee Break-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [CROW]  
_ I know where they are, Ruri. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Crow-centric chapter! He's playing it risky, tonight, because this plot has to go somewhere, doesn't it?

Yeah, sure, getting into Academia’s secret stash of confidential, classified information that is undoubtedly considered controversial nature when you’re a mere prison guard is like signing off both your job and life expectancy, but what is he supposed to tell Ruri, then? That he doesn’t want her and everyone else to know where the hell her brother is being kept in? That he doesn’t want to go through with the promise he’s made her?

That’d be so unlike him that Crow _had_ to go ahead and throw himself in secrets he’s wanted to know the answers to by himself anyway.

He knows he doesn’t have very long to live as a prison guard too. His colleagues are starting to suspect something’s up with him, the one dude who doesn’t spend his time defending Academia’s actions, and he’s certain he’s never pulled enough of a façade not to show his disgust at their discussions about that one humiliatingly mean-spirited “show” or their blatant hatred of other factions who have done nothing wrong to their persons. Drinking litres of bitter, shit-tasting coffee hasn’t helped in the slightest, but at least he can justify his frowns with the contents of a cup.

As such, and after talking it out with the others of the Resistance, and despite Ruri’s careful words urging him not to risk himself, he decided to intrude himself inside the forbidden offices during the night, in the middle of his shift, when Ruri is fast asleep. It’s another way to watch over her, right? She wants (more like she _needs_ it, but she’s insisted on that) this information, he just has to give it to her as soon as possible and with as many details as he can possibly remember.

There are no guards in that part of the building, just as he predicted. Considering the lack of life in the headquarters outside the prison during at night, as if the whole building’s asleep itself, the guard is drawn out thin with only one dude keeping an eye on the entire place. Perhaps they assumed the overly strict discipline filled with worse-than-death punishments would be enough to prevent anyone on the service from taking the opportunity. Too bad for them that he has no fear of them and just doesn’t care about punishments he’ll try to escape from anyway. These guys don’t even have a single idea as to what’s coming for them.

Not to mention that Crow knows what he’s doing. He’s spent time researching and memorizing his colleagues’ schedules and areas of affectation. He knows the guard for this part of the night is Asuka and, as it stands out, she’s as much of a Resistant as he is. They discussed it outside of work: she’ll let him pass as long as he tells her about what he’ll find in there. Their plan’s only flaw is surveillance cameras, but no fear is to be had: Yusho’s done his thing with them in everyone’s backs (to the point he himself doesn’t know what issue the cameras will pretend to have). There really is no fear to be had, even if he’d have tried getting in without all these precautions anyway.

It’s just a sign to get in there tonight, considering Asuka is substituting for some Academia dog who’s caught the nastiest case of food poisoning on the day before. Must have been the shit-tasting coffee.

Academia is, as much it hurts him to admit it, the top notch in terms of technology. They have the latest advancements in everything he could ever think of, mostly because they’re the ones finding all these cool new things and never share their finds with anyone else because, as it stands out, every single executive, corporate and high-ranking officer in Academia is greedier than any creature on Earth and more hateful than anyone else. (Or, at least, so it seems: after all, Asuka is an elite soldier who doesn’t share their mindset and this Tsukimori girl must have betrayed them for some reason too, it kind of goes against his point).

As such, all of their information is stored as data on various-sized computers and, if his instincts and guesses about Academia are right, the information he’s searching for isn’t going to be in the computer with the giant screen: no, that’s too obvious. That thing has to be for surveillance cameras purposes, something that needs great display to be monitored. And, considering the time of the day, he really doesn’t want to turn that computer and stumble upon the two trapped in the labyrinth sleeping (or, at least, trying to sleep: Ruri’s mentioned her brother’s always been a light sleeper with insomnia problems). He isn’t a damn voyeur, for fuck’s sake!

Like anyone with half a brain and knowledge about the big ones, he immediately goes for the smallest, shadiest unit in the entire room, a little black computer with an old keyboard (well, as “old” as something can be in such highly advanced hellhole). Despite the fact this is his first time in this place, that one computer seems familiar, almost reminding him of home, like something they’d have salvaged back in the day after going through the nearest Fusion discharge. Heh, now that he thinks about it, it just makes _that_ much more sense.

As such, Crow is surprisingly familiar with the OS installed on that one, browsing its files with ease despite their vague names, unknown extension types and weird programs that run these elusive extensions. Everything has cryptid names, information hidden behind countless initials and gibberish words meant to confuse the complete stranger trying to dig their way through the secrets present on these hard drives. It makes up for the lack of a concrete password: he’s currently impersonating a colleague (the same that succumbed to the terror of the shit-tasting coffee, if he remembers correctly) to get himself in there, it’d have been too easy to leave them his actual identity. He still has work to accomplish in this building, after all, even if the life expectancy of his job is dwindling by the day.

The first folder that catches his attention does so in a hunch but is nonetheless containing important information he absolutely needs: profiles of past and current high-profile prisoners, all available in a folder named “wrangling”. They aren’t numerous, but the names just help him identify who these people are: “FSN1” and “FSN2”, “XYZ1” to “3”. While he’s never known where “XYZ1”, the original leader of the Resistance, is kept (he also doesn’t know if the guy is still alive, considering Kaito himself didn’t hold his hopes very high, until opening the file revealed him to be kept in a separate wing than where he has been affected), he was guarding over “XYZ2”, so he avoids looking too much into her file.

Yet, Crow, still goes through Ruri’s file to know what could have been in store for her. Ignoring non-vital information about her for his plans like her original home address, school of attendance and chest size (now that’s just gross, who the hell decided to get that and how did they do that?!), he’s reassured to know that, at least, they aren’t planning on executing her anytime soon. She’s their main bargaining chip for the Resistance, after all: she’s an important member of their network, more than an asset or a symbol and more of an officious leader, and her life matters to both camps for different reasons.

It’s disgusting to figure out that’s why they’re keeping her alive, but he closes the file before the nausea could fully set in.

The Fusion profiles mention two other persons: the elite soldier turned disgraced then executed traitor, Sora Shiun’in, whose status does show up as “dead”, and the familiar face of Selena Tsukimori, the other elite soldier who got caught betraying the forces she was supposed to serve. To his surprise, she isn’t planned on being executed for a while, even if the plan is coming up several times in her profile, mostly because she’s also serving as a bargaining chip, this time for the now-known Academia traitors to the cause. She’s their example, the one they’ll torture until her soul will break just so nobody else will ever raise against the machine. Just reading that sends a chill down his spin, so he closes the file and makes a mental note to also save this girl as soon as possible from the hell she’s currently exploring in an attempt to regain her liberty and a decent life.

Obviously, he can’t leave without exploring the profile of the guy she’s stuck with, a comrade he’s never met and his friend’s only family: “XYZ3”, Shun Kurosaki. Once again, he skips on most of his profile, albeit noticing a few things (he’s _younger_ than him? Holy shit, he doesn’t look the part at all), only focusing on what’s meant for him. If Tsukimori still has the hope to get her amnesty eventually, as she’s still a soldier of Academia with potential, Shun is doomed to be executed, even after he’d find his way out. The conflict is settling in his mind now: is he going to tell Ruri about it? Does she want to know her brother will die if he isn’t rescued one way or the other, she who has had her freedom stripped away from her for stupid, terrifyingly discriminatory, ignorance-driven reasons?

He’ll have to tell the rest of the Resistance about, though, and that alone makes his heart sink, so telling Ruri about it is out of the question for now. Later, perhaps. When she’ll be free, he promises.

That still gives him a good idea, despite how critical learning that information is. While he’s at it, digging through confidential and forbidden files, he can as well search for other pieces. That little box seems to contain infinite information for a moment, so his fingers go back to typing, his hands to tapping the touch screen, and his eyes become a falcon’s, observing every detail showing before him in hope to find his prey.

Since that computer contained the information of both Tsukimori and Kurosaki in the same place, it only made sense for him that he’d be able to find the information on the project they’re being used for in the same place, as not to multiply the operating systems used by one person. Even if he finds just a summary of it, he can predict what is to come for them or, even better, infiltrate the place’s surveillance systems to prevent the broadcast and allowing them a way out, unlocking all the doors and solving every trial by the press of a key. Perhaps a wild dream, but a wild dream he’ll try to make a reality anyway.

Time’s pressing him, the next shift beginning soon. If he can trust Asuka per virtue of being in the Resistance (entrusted by Yusho, verified by Kaito when he asked about her, her red cloth is hidden in her left boot), he can’t trust anyone else coming after her, so he makes everything as quick as possible to avoid getting caught red-handed, at the price of potential information. Nothing guarantees he could do anything with it or remember it all anyway, he thinks, as his eyes rush through blocks and blocks of text.

What he learns, however, is worth the shot and all of the risks, even as Asuka screams his name to get out of the room before she’ll have to give the shift to their colleague, even as he hastily shuts the entire system down. Running through the deserted corridors, tapping inside Asuka’s hand as he passes before her with a smile and a rushed “thank you”, he repeats the information in his mind over and over again.

All this running steals his breath away from him, but at least, he can crash in front of the still-asleep girl he’s sworn to watch over and mutter to her, in her sleep, in hopes to see her awaken soon, “I know where they are, Ruri,” take a breath again, “I know where the Daedalus is”.

The commotion must be what makes her open her eyes and gently smile as she wakes up from her slumber. They have one hell of an important conversation to have.


	20. Act VII, Scene 1: Dawn of the Lunar Eclipse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SHUN]  
_ By the looks of it, this was the bitter end. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the eighth update of BWI, this time focusing on our bird boi Shun! This one is fairly heavy, not unlike last week's, and I'm getting happier and happier about unveiling new chapters! The last Acts were my favorite to write, and I hope this opinion will be shared.

Waking up in that “resting room” with a girl who had been nothing more than a stranger a few days before had felt oddly identical to a routine: waking up, eating breakfast, washing and getting ready for another day of bullshit and card games only seemed to be natural. Had he just gotten that used to this prison? Had he been mentally poisoned behind his back like Tsukimori had been tortured by her own mind before his eyes?

However, walking straight into a pure-white with nothing else than the lack of colour and a grey door on the other side, had thrown off any feeling of normalcy Shun could have gotten from the situation. After all, considering what they had been forced to go through for the last few days, it’d have been very weird for them to pull out the generous sparing card and give them an easy “trial”.

There were no gifts to be found nor given on the battlefield, there was no armistice in unofficial fights and guerrillas. The Resistance knew that more than anyone else, so he put himself before Tsukimori (but not by much, he had less of a urge to protect her than he had for Ruri: she was as strong as he was, if not stronger than him, she didn’t need him to protect her against anything but whatever had possessed her on the day before) as they walked around.

At first, and from what he was seeing in the corner of his eye, it seemed like she shared his opinion and impressions on the situation, gaze darting in all directions, from the ceiling to the floor, never too shy to give a look above her shoulder behind her, pace slow enough to carefully study every detail. It was all fine and dandy until the figure of a blue-haired guy appeared on the other side of the room, waving at them with what must have been a giant grin.

“Sora!!”, she screamed, her breath quickening. “Sora, is that you?!”, she yelled again, legs trembling in what had to have been anticipation.

Before he could add anything, or even connect the dots together, Tsukimori ran straight for the guy with no second thought given, face distorting in astonishment with a desperate smile (he knew those too much, it had been Ruri’s when they had finally been able to see each other, as much as it pained him to remember that). His reflexes weren’t quite fast enough to grab her elbow as she did, but he still tried to do something, even if he didn’t get what she was trying to do.

“Tsukimori, wait, that’s a trap!”

His scream was useless: he hadn’t even started to run that she was already far down her own rabbit hole to hear him.

“_Tsukimori_!!”

It was when he himself started to rush forward, even if his pace just reflected his suspicions considering he could have run faster than that, that he learned what the trap had been all along. Of course that the guy vanishing from sight had been a hologram or a mirage of some sort all along: there were little chances that this Sora guy, a prisoner that had been executed by Academia themselves, would have shown up happily walking around in this wretched place. Tsukimori’s limbs must have reacted before her brain.

Well, at least, Shun sure hoped so, because otherwise she’d have purposely rushed to her death as the floor opened in two right before her, making her plunge into the void with no forewarning given. By the looks of it, this was the bitter end.

When he reached the edge of the new-found gap, she was nowhere in sight. She was gone, her body having disappeared in the thick dark fog of the unknown void below his feet, and all he could do was stare into the abyss waiting for it to stare right back at him. Who knew how deep the hole was? Who knew if she could have survived the fall, even considering all of her training and experience on the battlefield? Had she made it, but had she shattered every bone in her body and made herself unable to survive any further?

Still somewhat in denial, he tried finding an object to throw down the hole to judge how deep it was, but as he found nothing around him and in the room, he simply stood there, dumbfounded, body trembling and a shiver going down his spine. Had he imagined everything would end this soon? Was he going to die because she was… gone? Were they this interconnected, or had it all been a fluke, some bluff that had worked on the both of them? Had this been Academia’s plan all along, to kill her by triggering her last basic instincts remaining, then finish him off with poison injected in his veins? Had they decided they’d both die as fools?

“Tsukimori!!” He yelled, without a second thought to stop himself. “Tsukimori, goddammit, are you still here?! Can you hear me?!”

Shun’s reason was screaming at him to get moving, to continue on, honouring her memory like he had with fellow members of the Resistance that had perished under the hands of Academia’s forces or had gone missing in particularly egregious and events shrouded in mystery and confidential information; but his entire self had other ideas in mind.

Falling to his knees, fingers clutching the border of the edge, his breathing quickened as his heartbeats accelerated, making the world spin around him as he retained the urge to barf. It wasn’t a question of whether he was going to survive or not? He had ditched corpses after giving them a tomb before. He could get past this, if this was just a question of burying someone, this gap was the biggest tomb he had even seen…

“Fucking hell, Tsukimori, just respond already! Stop _fucking_ with me!!”

That was pointless. Why was he screaming into the void? The abyss couldn’t reply back, that served no purpose and it made no sense to do. He should have continued on, destroy that damn bracelet now that she didn’t also depend on it, and it’d have been all fine. He’d be fine, he’d find his freedom back, he’d reunite with Yuto and save Ruri with his very two hands. But no, instead, his legs didn’t move and he felt faint. When had he softened this dramatically?

“Se… Selena…?” His voice was feeble, broken, slow to come out of his throat and parching it in lava as it went along.

She was gone. She was fucking _gone_ and he had done _nothing_ about it. He was alone, and it was all his goddamn fault, because he hadn’t bee able to stop her from running to an obvious mirage.

And now, what was he supposed to do?

Slowly, he got to his knees, limbs still weak and trembling. Trying to see forward despite his sight blurring before him, he gathered what was left of his vocal and mental strength, remembering a ritual he hadn’t had to do in such a long time, the song that never was around victory, the one he always sang with someone else; but now he was on his own and would shoulder that burden.

Trying to get past his growing grieving, he hummed to a familiar tune, tried to replicate the chanting parts. His heart meant it, his vocal cords couldn’t truly keep up with the switch in tones, his voice was too deep to compare to Ruri’s singing or Yuto’s chants. It was short, too quiet in his own taste, all because he was also unable to carry the only thing he could still do to appease his turmoil and pay her respect for the last time.

Even her burial would be mediocre because of him. If he hadn’t messed up there, then what did “fucking something up” mean?

He got up, looked one last time at the all-consuming black void, brushed the liquids pouring on his face with his sleeve and walked across the bridge left by the gap forming, head hanging down, eyes never looking back. As the door opened and closed, the only sound that echoed in the void was a whimper that tried to hide itself from the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, before you read the next chapter, I owe you what came to my mind when writing about the chant:  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nxzW6tqOMd4  
It's a piece and a half of my childhood that I rediscovered in early college time, so I'm more than glad to have finally been able to plug it in a story of mine. Please give it a listen!


	21. Act VII, Scene 2: Clair de Crépuscule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SHUN]  
_ …It’s an Xyz chant for the fallen. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the halfway point of the story, if you include the prologue and epilogue. Yes. It's only half the ride, I know it's taken some time to get here, but there's 20 chapters left of adventures in a vague dystopia, how cool is that!

Shun stared at the ceiling, in silence, trying to prevent himself from crying. It wasn’t even that he was trying to hide it from the cameras: they had heard his screams and listened to his chanting. He was simply applying the principle that you weren’t supposed to cry over a comrade’s death to respect their memory for at least a day, that you could only do that if you hadn’t caused said comrade’s demise one way or the other.

The ceiling was the only thing that didn’t threaten to unleash the waterworks. The other bed? Selena would have sat on it and inspect her gloves, untied her hair to tie it back again or browsed through her tarot deck. The bathroom? Selena would have guided him to it because he was crying in front of her and trying to bottle of it again. The kitchen? Selena would have played card games with him on its table.

Everything reminded him of her and nothing was distracting him aside from the ceiling and the cameras’ damn quiet eyes. He was stuck in a mental Daedalus of his own.

Even if he was deep in thought and had found himself a passion for lamenting on his own faults, the slightest weird noise would make him jump, which he realized when the sound of the door opening and closing got him out of his mental hell in a single moment. As he rose his head from the mattress’s surface to the air to face the door, he readied himself to fight whatever stranger was entering until he just didn’t, his brain stopping to function a second later.

“Ah, there you are, Kurosaki. I was wondering where you were. Should have guessed you’d be there already”

It was none other than _Selena Tsukimori._

He didn’t know what to make of it. Was she real? Was she a hologram like the Sora that had baited and tricked her had been? Was he hallucinating her because he was neck-deep into his own turmoil of guilt and grief? Was that the denial or bargaining stage of that cycle he had forgotten the functioning of ages ago? She couldn’t be alive, right? That had to be a mirage. It couldn’t be a miracle, so it had to be a mirage. A mere _mirage_.

He still watched her come near him, advancing to their beds, until she sat on hers, putting her pouch next to her pillow and then looking at him, concern on her face, as he was still trying to put himself back together. Was it a dream? Was it reality? Was it fantasy or a twisted trap laid before him by Academia? Why couldn’t he just brush things off like he had always done? What was it, this time, that was so different from the others before?

“What’s wrong?” She asked as she crossed her legs and arms. “You look weird, Kurosaki.”

“I…” His voice was trembling. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re a fake!”

She seemed downright offended at that.

“A fake?! The hell’s wrong with you?!”

He pointed his finger at her, entire limb shaking. He was about to _hyperventilate_.

“You can’t have survived that! You’re _dead_, Selena! You’re _dead_!!”

He buried his face in his hands before she could see the tears about to come out.

“You… You’re dead…!”

Footsteps came to him before he felt a hand on his shoulder. In a reflex, he rose his head again, only to be faced with her eyes. They shone like real irises under the light, jade-coloured and shimmering. Her fingers were real: when he put his hand on hers, he could feel them, feel her skin, its warmth and the fabric of her gloves.

“I tried calling out for you, but you didn’t seem to hear me. That must have been that weird black fog.”

Who cared about what had happened back there, about why he couldn’t hear her? What mattered was that she was alive. That was her voice, her words, her fingers and her scent. She was _here_, she was _still_ here and by his side. Fuck, he didn’t want to fight her because he had always been on the sceptical sides of things, he just wanted to cry and be grateful for once.

“Ku…” Her voice hesitated, taking its time to exit her throat. “Kurosaki…?!”

He was shamelessly wrapping his arms around her and burying his head wherever he could, out of her sight, forehead against her clothes and hands clutching at her jacket and shirt. The sobs only poured from then on: there was nothing that could stop the flood now. For how long that lasted, he didn’t know. Not that he cared in the first place: he was too busy trying to get over what had happened.

That was, however, until the embarrassment of one little thing came back to him with full force. If she was alive, and if she knew he was calling out for her but didn’t hear her… then that must have meant she had heard _that_. The fact she had heard it and could probably tell she heard it was bad, very bad: this was an Xyz chant exclusively for Xyz warriors that had fallen on the battlefield and Xyz civilians that had died heroically, engaged in battle or not. This wasn’t meant for friends from the other sides of the Faction compass. She wasn’t even a Resistant, Shun, what the fuck was wrong with you!

He immediately pulled out, keeping his filthy arms and hands to himself, backing himself against the wall and head turned all the way to face the white next to his bed. No, no… That wasn’t good. He couldn’t admit to her that this was a mourning chant of everything, if she brought it up. On the other hand, with how weird and insane he must have looked, she’d obviously ask him what was wrong with him. He was, in short, stuck between a rock and an embarrassing place.

Instead, she sat next to him on that very bed, a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not a good people reader, so please, just tell me what’s wrong, Shu— Kurosaki.”

“…that chant.”

“The chant?”

“You… you’ve heard it, right?”

“I did. Why? What’s wrong with it? You sang just fine to me.”

Well, that was surprising to hear. To be fair, she had never heard Ruri sing the parts he had always had troubles with: she had never heard the better version. Would have she heard it, she’d have found his own chant and abilities inferior.

Still, he shook his head, breathed in and out, and got himself back together. He still had the urge to tug her against his chest and let himself sink into sobs, but there was an explanation to be given and, now that he didn’t feel as shameful as he had felt at first, it was the best time to make a confession to her.

“…It’s an Xyz chant for the fallen.”

In the corner of his wet eye, her slight smile.

“You really thought I had died, then…”

“Of course I did! You fell to your death in some black void! By all meanings, you _were_ dead!!”

She just blinked rapidly at his outburst, speechless.

“The issue with the chant is that it’s only to be used for the Xyz Faction… I don’t even know why I decided it’d be a good idea to sing it.”

“Is there any way you can fix it?”

“Not really.”

“Is it a big issue?”

“…not really, I suppose. It’s only the two of us here.”

“So, problem settled. See? Not hard.”

Without any other word, he pulled her against him, chin resting against the top of her head as he inhaled her scent and bathed in her warmth. The tears wouldn’t spill anymore, to his relief, but his heart was still beating him dizzy and his fingers still trembled. He wasn’t getting over it this fast, he soon realized.

“Don’t do that ever again, Selena.”

“I wasn’t planning on doing that, you know. Sorry for having made you worry this much about me.”

“Just promise you won’t…”

He heard a light laugh, “I promise, right here and there”.

Maybe it didn’t hurt to rediscover physical contact once in a while. It had been a while since he had indulged himself in this kind of vulnerability for a while, sure, but showing it in front of her didn’t disturb him half as it should have.

Sometimes, you were just tired of acting tough and strong with no flaw out in the open for the enemy to seize advantage over, right? This was fine, _right_? It’d have to be: he didn’t feel the strength to get moving and act buff, now. Not after getting abducted by a swirl of emotions that had exhausted him. Perhaps they both needed rest after all these trials and intense feelings. He’d like to take that, though, for once.

Just… this once, he swore.


	22. Intermission VII: Sun Poking Through Black Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [YUTO]  
_ Say, do you wanna help me free a friend from prison? _

Yuto isn’t sure if that latest meeting he promised to give will be to be a trap or not. In fact, he’s brought a weapon with him in case it’d go south. Well, technically, he’s bringing a second weapon to said meet-up, but that’s still getting readier than usual: this isn’t meeting someone who’s obviously going against Academia like Crow. In fact, would this anonymous person not have requested specifically to be met alone, he’d have no doubt asked Crow to come with him. It just seems much safer to be accompanied by someone he trusts.

Even then, because the Resistance has always presented wide-open arms to powerful allies, he still went through with it, Kaito having pushed for him to conclude a spoken pact with that “ally”. That guy seems to have been the big deal, at some point: he’s apparently managed to throw Academia for a loop before vanishing with his threatened life and a fake tomb under his arm. He just wishes he had had the time to discuss it out with Crow in words or Ruri on paper, but sometimes, he has to compose with what he has, and in those times, he usually lacks time to reflect on things and words. Oh well, it’ll be his loss then.

They planned on meeting in the ruins of yet another abandoned research facility, albeit this one’s farther from the Resistance’s second-hand hideout. At this point, Yuto’s gotten used to getting to know people in eerie, decrepit rooms where he feels like he could catch a lethal disease from just accidentally cutting himself on a rusty nail, yet the anxiety remains: if he isn’t certain of what he’s doing, of where he goes and what he steps into, there’s always going have this something coming for his throat, making his stomach knot. It’s his mission, though, so he presses on and tried ignoring the bad feelings and red flags his mind has set up for itself like a self-stabbing traitor.

The noise of glass shards crunched under his feet stops making him panic when he’s finally faced with other sounds he should be far more alert about: breathing that isn’t his. Clothing folds that don’t come from his outfit. Faraway bottle fragments getting shattered even further. Without waiting a second, Yuto rises his head, meeting directly with the juvenile face of a blue-haired, lollipop-sucking short boy that he has seen somewhere once before, yet can’t exactly remember where, or how, or why. A funky mystery, then.

There’s no time to lose, so he directly cuts to the chase. The other guy surely doesn’t have any more time of the day to waste anyway, it’ll be beneficial to the both of them.

“You’re the person who want to meet up with me, right?”

“The one and only!”

He jumps from a slightly elevated place, sweeping some dust on his jacket’s shoulder pads. Before Yuto can add anything, however, he gets out a pendulum with a red handkerchief tied around it.

“Here. I know this isn’t really a proof considering I could just be some ’demia spy tryin’ to infiltrate your network, but trust me, I’ve got no business dealing with the crazies.”

“And you’re…”

“Sora Shiun’in, ex-Academia soldier and whatnot. Nice to meetcha!”

This doesn’t explain why that guy hasn’t given his name to him, but the mere fact he could have been a Fusion soldier that has gone against them in some way still astonishes him on the spot. In fact, now that his name is in the discussion and ringing a bell to him, Yuto remembesd with an iron certainty where he has seen the little guy’s face before.

It was in an Academia propaganda clip of his execution, broadcast a couple months before, that they watched as to know what was coming for them in great horror. Unless Academia has either invented a machine to brainwash the dead to life or set up a very complex bluff, that kid has to have been the real deal, albeit he’d have had to pull off some impressive bluff on his own.

“…Aren’t you supposed to have been shot for high treason?”

“Well, yeah, I guess I’m supposed to be dead these days. But I’m alive, in the bone and the flesh! You can even bite into me if you’re not sure!”

“I… I’ll pass, thank you,” he reacts in disgust before getting back to the main idea. “Anyway, why did you call for me in such intimacy? Why didn’t you allow me to come with Crow, for example?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’d trust me enough to meet me on your own. I’m an ex-soldier for the opposite side, I could be trickin’ you.”

“They’d want you dead.”

“What tells you they weren’t bluffin’ around? You’ve all been a big thorn in their sides for a while now, I’d let you know.”

“You fled to Pendulum.”

He shrugs his shoulders, a sheepish smirk on his face as he bites into his lollipop.

“Good deduction, detective Yuto!”

The latter crosses his arms, not sure what to make of such a light-hearted conversation in a grim context like they’re currently in. Is this kid just trying to fool around with him?

“You must have had another reason to call me there. You know you’ll have to meet Kaito and the others eventually if you want to be trusted.”

“Oh, yeah, about that,” and with that, he loses his smile, “I’ve got a couple questions to ask you in private before I do that.”

Wait, shouldn’t it be the other way around? Oh well… If that game works well in his favour, he could gain one of the most useful allies they’ll ever be able to get in this war. Putting aside his questions and want to make a snarky remark, Yuto continues on with the conversation.

“Sure, go for it.”

“Could I bring my friends to the fight, if they’re all somewhat capable in combat and are willing to fight against Academia?”

“I guess it’d be Kaito’s role to judge that. They’re going to get training aside from what they’ve already learnt for sure. We’re always in search for more allies, so I don’t think they’ll get rejected before getting tested and we’ve made sure they’re actually allies and not moles.”

“Oh, cool then, I’ll be able to tell Yuya and the others the news when I get back home to fetch ’em!”

“What was your other question, then?”

“Almost forgot about that. Say, do you wanna help me free a friend from prison?”

The serious, cold tone suddenly bursting in Sora’s words has the merit to disturb Yuto for a second.

“Wait, why? Who is that you wanna save?”

“A girl named Selena. She was my only friend at Academia, so I need to save her.”

“I have my gi…” Oh man. That may be too indiscreet on his part. “…a friend really dear to me who is also rotting in prison right now, even if I’m sure she’s fighting her way through it as we speak. We could save them together, then.”

“Wait, _she_? Nah, nah, Selena isn’t kept in the same place as Ruri Kurosaki!”

(Wait, how does he know all that information? Has Crow told him all that? Does Sora have his own information network inside Academia? That’d make sense, considering he’s still an ex-soldier, but he has to have pretended to be dead for at least a couple of months.)

“You’ve not heard of the Daedalus? That’s where she’s kept.”

Then it finally clicks inside his brain, reminding him of a conversation he has had with Crow the day before.

“Shit! This is where _Shun_’s being kept!”

“I see that we’re on the same page, then.”

Frustration builds inside him too quickly for him not to contain it on the inside, clutching his fists and gritting his teeth, head hanging down as not to reveal the fury in his eyes.

“…I’ll destroy them.” He looks right back into his interlocutor’s eyes. “Let’s do it, Sora.”

“I _knew_ I could count on ya.”


	23. Act VIII, Scene 1: Freakshow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SHUN]  
_ By the way, Kurosaki… Why are you holding my hand like that? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You could say this Act is really where the Peregrineship stuff picks up. It's also where Academia may have started to realize they had put the wrong elements together...

After the storm came the calm and peaceful weathers, that much was known. It also seemed to apply to mental turmoil, considering that, again, Shun had managed to sleep off his turmoil from the day before during the night, without waking up once to check if the cameras _still_ weren’t trying to kill him. As it stood, they weren’t, but he was still surprised to be welcome with Selena’s calm snores and another wise blank silence.

Tranquillity had such a weird taste.

And what a short-lived taste it had been: as soon as they entered the next room to quickly power through their escape from the labyrinth, they got faced with yet another stupid high-stake prank Academia had pulled on them. They had managed, somehow, to squeeze a labyrinth inside another, bigger labyrinth. He didn’t know if that qualified as genius or a lack of inspiration on the part of whomever designed trials, but he wasn’t amused about it at all either way.

“You think they’ll try splitting us again?” Selena asked, right beside him.

“There’s only one entrance to it. Seems like they’ve stopped trying to split or force us together,” he replied, eyes looking right into the corridor facing them. “Must have gotten tired of that charade,” he mentally added as a side-comment.

At first, it felt like adventuring in ruins with Ruri and Yuto all over again: just the three of them, lost in a strange world, exploring what had been left behind, footsteps echoing with each other in big, empty spaces littered with dirt, dust and thing that had burnt. _Terre brûlée_ or not, it had always been clear to him that you could never fully erase something from existence, be it its body, its soul or its memory. The countless abandoned prisons, laboratories, experiment chambers and underground bases they had gone through had taught him that there always was something hiding under the dirt for the open eye to find.

His pace was confident, thinking of this place being familiar territory. They hadn’t thrown him into some obscure challenge he had to somehow find the solution to on the fly with no clue aside from, in case a miracle could have possibly happened in Hell, discussing with Selena about whatever her past experiences and affiliation to Academia could bring them. It had helped them when they had had to guess what vial of liquid was the most likely to kill them in mere minutes, so he’d have guessed it could help them for a second time.

Well, he’d have guessed that if Academia wasn’t _mainly_ composed of vicious assholes who took great pleasure in seeing two persons go through sadistic, claustrophobic crap.

Obviously, because this wasn’t going to be at least a tiny bit of fun, the plug was pulled on them and what originally seemed like an abandonment-themed pseudo-labyrinth suddenly became what he had always envisioned a part of Hell to look like: mirrors, _mirrors_ everywhere. They hadn’t seen their reflections in one since getting there, as the bathroom lacked one (a part of their torture, he supposed, in case they wanted to check for injuries they couldn’t see with just their eyes): as much as he didn’t care about his own appearance, and as much as Selena looked perfectly fine to him (he’d have even gone as far as to almost-admit she looked kind of pretty, despite everything getting inflicted on her and the numerous signs of exhaustion adorning both of their faces), he didn’t exactly want to stare at himself getting lost in some maze.

It brought back some weird memories. He could sometimes see himself as much younger than he was, holding his sister’s hand in his, as they tried to traverse through the mirror halls of a fair that had settled not too far away from their house. While it hadn’t been the best afternoon of their life, considering Ruri had started crying because they had gotten lost and he himself had started panicking, it still gave him a tiny smile to think back to, remembering the days where neither of them was aware of the dictatorship that was soon going to unfold on their people, the days where he hadn’t had to worry about their survival and a war they would be doomed to lose. Just thinking about that again made him bitter.

“I don’t get what they’re trying to accomplish with this,” Selena suddenly spoke up. “This isn’t a trial like we’ve seen before. There has to be a trap somewhere.”

“Yeah.”

“By the way, Kurosaki… Why are you holding my hand like that?”

As soon as she told him that, he noticed he was, indeed, holding her fingers in his palm. Violently pulling them apart, cheeks heating up from shame, he looked aside, witnessing himself redden in the mirror he was now facing.

“No… no reason. Just a… reflex.” God that wasn’t sounding very credible, was it?

“A… _reflex_?” Her tone sounded just as puzzled and unbelieving as he’d have predicted if he had been told such a lame excuse (even it was true reason).

“An old habit that didn’t die with time. I used to hold my sister’s hand when we went through this kind of mazes as kids. It has… nothing to do with you, aside from the fact you remind me of Ruri.”

“I see.”

She didn’t believe him, that much he could easily tell.

Keeping his hands by his sides, forbidding them from venturing around, Shun resumed his mission to find the exit with her by his side. The reflections constantly staring at him smothered him like a cushion pressed against a new-born’s mouth, sure, but he’d find that exit. He didn’t even know why mirrors of all things made him this uneasy. It didn’t make sense, so he’d just stomp them until they’d only be shards. The exit was what mattered anyway. Was the trap set before them just trying to kill their eyes and mentality by making them trip on their own reflections?

It wasn’t even like the thing had angles they’d have to pick out from. It was, aside from sharp turns they’d sometimes barely miss, a straight line to what he’d have assumed was the exit: had they just run out of ideas already? Had they just forgot to remove all the looking glasses before putting them there and pretended this had been planned all along? For people who’d steal their needs and funds from everybody else, they sure seemed either broke or lazy. It couldn’t be both.

“I… think I remember this place,” Selena suddenly spoke up, eyes darting at different spots with frowned eyebrows, as her fingers slipped back into his.

“You _remember_ that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Shun, I’ve never been here in person. I’ve simply heard about it and seen a couple pictures that had been leaked by someone and that Sora had somehow gotten a hand on. If I’m not mistaken, this was meant to become an energy generator of some sorts, but they messed up somewhere along and abandoned the project. That’d mean…”

“…that we’re in a former research facility. Makes sense to me.”

He didn’t want her hand to go away from his. For some damned reason, it was soothing him in times where, yeah, he’d admit he wasn’t feeling his best. Darted with reflections, confused and choked by the tight corridors and with no real sign of where they were going, he’d have never allowed his vulnerability to show, but having Selena by his sides made it different, somehow.

Did he know why she had put her hand back inside his as they were walking around the place, with her going ahead? No. It wasn’t like he was going to backstab her or get lost, she knew him better than that.

All things considered, he didn’t mind not having an answer as long as this lasted until the end of that damn pseudo-maze.

When they finally saw that damned door, Shun let out a sigh of relief he didn’t even know he had been holding until that very moment. They still both braced themselves for a disappointment, for the obvious deception they’d soon be facing; but it turned out to be the real deal, offering them with the sterilized, generic-looking beds and almost-empty kitchenette they had gotten somewhat used to.

Their hands parted in silence as they left the mirror room, not before he thought he had just seen a flash of light course through the reflecting walls, still making sure to quickly close the door behind him _just in case_. Seemed like his irrational side had been unleashed when trapped in absurd conditions… Must have been his irrational side, there was no other explanation for anything else he had thought and done today. That, of course, included feeling the cold void left by her fingers leaving his.


	24. Act VIII, Scene 2: Soul Labyrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ Saying she understood Shun more than Academia, however, didn’t mean she understood him much more than that. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has someone asked for more internal monologues?  
Maybe not, but I sure love them to bits, so please take this one who has a lot of meaning to this story!

There were a lot of things going through Selena’s mind as she lay around in bed, not finding sleep. That was an odd occurrence: usually, she was the one to fall asleep first and Shun was the one staying awake, unable to doze off because of the cameras. Instead, that night, she was the one whose mind was too busy for her own good and he was the one she was currently hearing the light snoring of. It was the first time she was seeing him so serene, so appeased and untroubled.

That shouldn’t have felt so weird to her, yet it was. Really, what had their existences and minds become, if even the most basic of human emotions, a right everyone had to peace of mind, seemed like a rare occurrence for her to see respect in a fellow comrade’s life? One more question to add to the ever-growing pile, she supposed.

Where were they? Even if she had heard of the Arc-V and Momentum Projects before, she had just plainly listened to rumours about them, never researching a forbidden, confidential topic, as her code would have deemed it forbidden to her and potentially give her the death penalty for high-level information intrusion, followed by leaking. She had been educated not to go against orders and never to think for herself, it had only made sense for her to, back then, ignore what her natural curiosity was telling her to pursue.

Now that she was stuck in what could have been the long-defunct, failed Momentum Project from all those years ago (had she even been born yet, when it had unfolded, exploded during its maiden journey and faded into obscurity right afterwards?), she was left wondering in what part of Academia’s former research site they had been put into. Who knew what other devices they’d use on them, who knew if they were guaranteed to escape without dying before finding the exit of mercury, lead or radioactivity poisoning?

As usual, Academia inflected on her its “don’t ask questions, just do” mindset on her, the easiest way for her to get questions about anything even remotely suspicious, especially in this exhausting context; constantly wondering about what was going to happen next, why they were there and where they even put their feet down, if they’d really get out of this place before they’d have died in whatever death trap awaited them. What was the point of this? Was there even a point? Had its meaning gotten lost in time, in translation between colleagues working for the wrong side of the conflict? Who had thought about it, who had accepted it, and why? What would be anyone’s reason to put prisoners sentenced to death through the grind like that?

It had become such an issue for her that she understood her former affiliation less and less every passing moment, starting to understand a complete stranger more than she did for them. At what point had her mind started making more sense about Shun Kurosaki, her former enemy, someone she had once sworn to bring down even if it’d have costed her the life she had learnt to preserve above everything else that wasn’t Academia’s interests, than whom she had worked for years with and for? That didn’t make sense, that would _never_ make any sense! 

Mind flooding with painful thoughts of being lost in her own questioning, left to understand things she couldn’t get answers on or information about, she stared at the only other person who’d ever, she finally realized, be able to relate to whatever was crossing her brain at the speed of sound, to what she’d have gone through.

When she had first lay her eyes on him, she had sworn he’d be a pain to bear while they tried escaping from a hellish maze. He had seemed rude and distant, downright despicable, even if his reasons to distrust her had always been justified. She was simply not looking forward to being forced to collaborate with him, to bear his killjoy attitude and berating grunts, his pessimistic mood poisoning any attempt at being motivated that could have possibly blossomed inside her chest.

To her surprise, she warmed up to him fairly quickly, minding less and less having to work together for the same guy and starting to appreciate not what he was capable of (albeit there was no denying he could pull some stunts with impressive skill, for an untrained renegade), but who he was. She had found him more relatable than what had first met her doubtful eyes, more dependable than she’d have been able to admit to him.

Saying she understood Shun more than Academia, however, didn’t mean she understood him much more than that. She knew his motivations to get out of here, what he had done to “deserve” the title of criminal, but that was it, really. He’d have rather talked about his sister or comrades than he’d have about him, preferred discussing card games than his experience with them, and was shrouding himself in a mysterious fog whose existence she wasn’t sure he was aware of.

On one hand, Selena had never liked not knowing or understanding things, especially when she spent her time living with said thing, always refusing to settle for parts of darkness on her handling of something. On another, though, she thanked Shun for being such an enigmatic person she had never quite seen before: asking herself questions about him was far less painful than asking those she was well aware she’d never receive any response to. At least, with Shun, she could always ask him or discover them for herself through discussions or observations. It was almost a fun game to play in secret.

Or was it _Kurosaki_? How was she supposed to call him anymore? It wasn’t like he was calling her by her last name anymore either… Had they really bonded that much, for them to switch name bases? She’d have guessed so, from that very question she had just thought of. It didn’t make more sense the more than she thought about it, that was for sure.

In the end, Selena felt lost to her thoughts and born curiosity. It had always been in her best interest to wonder about her surroundings and question everything that she could lie her eyes, ears and fingers on. If it existed, she’d usually want to at least know what it was and how it worked. The irony of her current situation was that the same people who had raised her to think this way also happened to have been those forcing her to see things in a whole other way, to approach them in such a different manner that she was still taken aback by that switch within herself. The more she asked questions about anything, the less she understood about them, the more mysterious they grew; and it was that fog coating her entire world that she couldn’t stand facing.

So she tried thinking like she thought Shun did. He had never hesitated before going ahead (aside from the time she had fallen in a gap digging under her feet), prioritizing acts and acting against their captors rather than spend hours trying to get behind faceless people’s cryptic mentalities. It made her envious, not to worry about everything he could think of, when she was busy losing sleep over it all. How did he do it? How, with how ragged in his life must have been, was he sleeping this deeply now? More questions, questions she wouldn’t be able to answer, but questions that soothed her to wonder about. It was, in a way, amusing to speculate about harmless elements of life.

Perhaps that was the way to go, actually. Perhaps she should just let go of her constant scepticism, focus on mindless and useless interrogations nobody but her must have ever come up with, and slip into a thoughtless slumber.

Yeah, that sounded like the best option.


	25. Intermission VIII: Si vis pacem, para bellum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SORA]  
_ Despite the upcoming war, Sora feels at peace. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you want peace, prepare war," said the Romans about armed conflicts. They obviously knew what they were talking about at, so I say we should trust them on the matter.

Despite the upcoming war, Sora feels at peace.

Nothing’s wrong in his life anymore. The death bounty still floating over his head feels like feathers when it used to form an armour made of lead on his shoulders, as if the danger of Academia catching up to him and his strange survival has been nothing, merely a nightmare for a year or so. On second thought, everything around him is like a dream come true: things have kept getting better for him and everyone he cares about, the tide is finally shifting without their enemy’s public acknowledgement, and his friends from Pendulum have become some of the first of their faction to join the Resistance’s fight.

Their first raid is today. A former abandoned research facility he’s visited as a soldier before, a place where he once had trainings. If he’s not wrong, that was where he first met and talked to Selena, back then silent and cold, the kind of person he has always loved to bug around whenever he’s been given the chance to. Bittersweet memories, in retrospect: he’s since then fully realized how wrong he was to have blindly believed in Academia’s seemingly noble goals, to better humankind, fix the many mistakes it had, and fight against whom some of his old superiors would call “the degenerates” ; and that realization tinted what should have been good memories with no drawbacks. It was supposed to be the happiest memory of his time at Academia, the one good thing he got out of there that it still stripped out from him with its cruel, clawed hands!

But this was then and now is now. Now isn’t a time to miss: the rebellion is boiling under its shell of borne oppression, Academia is going to fall apart without seeing it coming to them, and he’s about to get his revenge. He’ll get back to them for threatening to kill him, for making him grateful to have been trusted to a lousy shooter with no aim, and for putting Selena, his first friend, behind the most sordid of bars. He’ll make the world a better place, him and all of his friends and comrades!

There’s something warming to him as he passes before his friends from Pendulum getting ready for the assault. Watching Yuya tie a red cape around his neck, Gongenzaka enforcing the crimson headband across his forehead and Yuzu retying her pigtails with blood-coloured ribbons only enforces his sentiment that would be a delightful firework of an attack. Seeing them collaborate and get along with people like Yuto, whom he’s met recently himself, motivates him further and further, intoxicating him with that certitude that everything will go perfectly.

Truly, if Yuto is a worrywart who kept thinking of “what if” scenarios which tire everyone around him from how pessimistic they can get, Sora is an impulsive mind who doesn’t really care as long as he does something that has an impact on the world around him, or a thing that’s fun in some way. In a sense, the one part of Academia he’s kept with him is finding fighting on a battlefield to be a perfectly fun activity as if it was nothing more than a battle of paintball or laser tag.

However, as a former soldier, he also knows that what’s going to unfold today has nothing in common with innocent warlike children’s games or sparring with Selena. It’s going to be a whole other level, where he’ll have, for one of the first times, the freedom to do as he wants and to speak to his fellow soldiers without risking the death penalty for insubordination. He’s looking forward to lighting the fireworks and watch everything explode in pretty colours.

They haven’t gotten the time to get some proper training, but his friends still pulled through it, judging by the smirk he’s seen on Yuto’s face, eyes watching them with all the care of someone caring for his comrades and knowing this could be the stepping stone for a wider victory. There’s nothing to be fooled about: Yuto is a warrior, like most of the Resistance. He’s used to battlefields and knows what a guerrilla is, how to invade a building while avoiding casualties, how to care for injured comrades during a battle. While they aren’t on par in terms of skills, Sora can only respect the collective efforts of the bunch of renegades he’s just joined: he’ll only have to show them how it’s supposed to be _exactly_ done.

Joining the Resistance has been such a pleasant experience that he wouldn’t have traded it out for anything. They listen to what he has to say, even if they sometimes disagree, even if they don’t come from the same Faction, even if he’s once been their enemy. Their leader accepted meeting him, asking him briefly to tell them about Academia’s unknown sides. It’s like finally being treated decently, as a breathing being who can think for himself, rather than just some cannon fodder who can be replaced with anyone else with enough physical training and mind crushing, even at the top of the artificial ladder of human value.

It infuriates him to guess they must have already replaced Selena in a couple of days at most with someone whose ambition and thirst for recognition has corrupted their spirit to the point of stealing with no afterthought the position of someone condemned to death for unjust reasons. He’ll tear the shit down of that logic too, bringing that change with all the others he wants to make to this cruel world that has never been more welcoming to him than when discovering the Resistance’s semi-devastated hideout of a former school.

They don’t have firearms. To be fair, the Resistance has a strict “no killing” policy that can only be broken during very specific occasions, and they couldn’t even try to afford themselves equipping the entire regiment in such arms: there’s too many of them and Academia prefers destroying obsolete weapons rather risking rebels getting their hands on them. They have the funds and production means to reach that stage of uselessly heinous toxic waste, which is what makes them so poor and very much unprepared for a head-to-head gunfight. Obviously, people of the Resistance aren’t so dumb: they’re perfectly aware of that. To make up for that raw, overwhelming force imbalance, they’ve adopted another approach where they’ll reign supreme.

Guerrillas has always been the way to go for the poor and badly equipped. He hasn’t seen it any other way, even in his wildest fantasies of overthrowing the rotten, true monsters who’ve always had their dirty, bloodied hands wrapped around his throat and about to plant their sharp claws inside of it if ever dared committing even the littlest counter-normative action. They’ll have to slip from behind and hit them in the back, like traitors and like the bottom of the scum barrel, because glory in revolutions only comes when it’s been conducted to success: if they fail, honour won’t matter, as they’re all be squashed back into oppression or, perhaps slightly less horrible, killed to be shown as “examples”. Attacking from the front would just be surrendering before the battle would start.

Sora’s always been a sore loser, he knows that. It’s always been victory and only victory, all or nothing. He’s willing to make the wildest bets in order to succeed, recklessly heading into action and then thinking about what the hell he’s doing. He wouldn’t have gone into the heat of the battle without people by his side for this, of course, but he wouldn’t have stayed behind and waited for things to happen either. He’s wanted to do something about it too, to shine like the incendiary pyromaniac he is when it comes to what he wants gone from the world.

Yeah, that’s exactly it. He’ll become the arsonist of Academia, the traitor that has risen back from the grave to get his revenge, the vengeful spirit that won’t be put to rest until his foe will be dragged to the ground and have eaten the dirt it’s forced its enemies to eat for years. He’ll gladly become that arsonist if it means putting an end to a mess that even him, a chaotic spirit, can’t enjoy. He’ll save his friend, help his newest companions out and get his revenge.

Better have a boring peace than have a constant war to wage for everyone, better prepare war to get the eternal truce, better become the yin of the Resistance’s yang than do nothing. This is why he’ll get ready to fight in a war, to perhaps perish on the battlefield, if it means leaving an impact and feeling something more than an outcast again.


	26. Act IX, Scene 1: Biohazards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SHUN]  
_ You are a glass cannon, Shun. Never forget that. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, and I kid you not, one of the Acts I was looking the most forward to posting online. We're officially entering the last third of the story and it's starting to show, as things will only go crescendo from now on.  
For the record, I planned on this chapter being much longer than that, but it didn't happen.

When he had woken up this morning, Shun really hadn’t expected that he’d have been fighting Selena with his own life on the line. Or, actually, he hadn’t expected to do any fighting at all: they had never been more than two and, as much as it’d have hurt him to admit it a few days ago, they had never had any reason to trigger a battle between the two of them. It didn’t even make sense for them to fight when the door was wide open, only waiting for them to walk through it to leave the trial and continue on their directionless trip through the palest depiction of the Inferno yet!

Yet, there he was, holding a spear in his hands he had just happened to find on the wall as Selena stared at him with crazed, dilated eyes, shining in a morbid light right into his soul. That, and with the most honesty that could possibly come from him, was the last thing he had ever wanted to see.

He was still processing what had just happened. The morning had started just fine, nothing out of the “ordinary”, until they entered the trial room. Glancing around him quickly, feet constantly stomping on floor covered in slimy, way-too-organic-to-his-taste roots, walls covered in veins whose diameter rivalled even those of a regular pipe. It was like being trapped in the belly of a beast, in a place where things could only end up badly. He was expecting to be melted, dissolved and ended slowly but irreversibly with acid pouring from the neon lights. Obviously, it hadn’t unfolded the way he had thought it would.

Selena had been fine until a tiny thing jumped on her from the hole left in a three-people-tall glass cylinder containing what seemed to be a dying bug queen, as enormous as it was hideous, as menacing as it was plainly disgusting to look at. Next to its transparent cage stood an oddly-placed bucket, but that wasn’t his main worry, because he noticed it right at the same time as he was witnessing the parasite disappear in the back of her neck, then her pained expression, only to notice the shine in her eyes suddenly and immediately fading. A crooked smile replaced the doubtful expression she had had until then.

Before he knew it, she started attacking him with her bare fists, quickly equipping herself with a spear lying around. Hadn’t it have been for his reflexes, hadn’t it been for his experiences getting ambushed; he’d have been impaled against the wall and pinned there like a butterfly in a bug collector’s exposing cases.

Instead, in an attempt to stay alive, he picked up another spear and started sparring, his life on the line, mind struggling to process her reasons to suddenly turn her back against him despite everything she had told him before about mutually trusting each other, despite becoming friends in dire circumstances. Had it just been a bluff all along?

“Selena! Can you hear me, Selena?!”

The beast didn’t reply, instead trying to impale him again, but he dodged, not without fear of getting stabbed all the way through.

“I… I’m sure you’re somewhere in there, so listen to me, Selena!”

All he got in return was to get disarmed without a word, only feral grunts and an eerie smile that was so unlike everything he had seen from her that it only convinced him further to fight for her mind’s freedom.

“I’ll get you out of that state, Selena, just watch!”

At this point, however, Shun knew he was losing the fight, dominated by her skill and lack of self-restraint, as she had picked up his lost spear. In desperation, he picked a sticky broken pipe, its edged breaking point making him think it could have served as a viable weapon against their actual enemy, and got back to his feet after getting knocked out of his balance. He’d have to continue fighting her without hurting her if he wanted to pry her away from their possessive hands that still hadn’t gotten enough of her pain, even if it meant struggling to his near-death.

In the corner of his eyes appeared, calmly resting against a wall, a torch. If he kept on losing territory like this, he could perhaps reach the fire and scare her this way. It’d at least tell him for sure if she was out of her mind, or if the natural human fear of flames was still active, if Selena was fighting her way through the cage constricting her soul or if she was gone and he had to end her off for her own good. He silently prayed that it’d be the former as he fought against her spears.

As he had predicted, he was getting pushed back more and more, having to play defensively as not to hurt her too badly (he had already scratched parts of her arms and legs fending for himself), his back soon hitting the wall he had hoped to eventually reach. She had just slapped the pipe out of his hand, prompting him to immediately pick up the torch and put it between the two of them as his last true wall of defence, just like Yuto had told him in secrecy right before his last attack on the oppressor.

_You are a glass cannon, Shun. Never forget that. _

The fire immediately triggered a reaction within her: she back down, eyes dilating, teeth gritting, evocative of a wounded predator getting threatened with a weapon it cannot fight back against. Again, his instincts didn’t mistake him: this was the solution, the fire was the one thing the beast couldn’t get a hand over. He wasn’t as proud of this discovery as much as he was relieved to have had it, barely letting a sigh of relief exit his lips right as the battle resumed.

Like a one-trick pony, the cornered Shun used the fire as a cheap ploy to continue using his main tactic, using his disadvantaged position to get where he needed to be. Even if he downright hated the thing with a burning passion, a hunch telling him it was its fault that the situation had turned this way, he was getting nearer and nearer to the giant glass containing the real true monster in the room, assuming fire could burn everything in its stead and destroy his issues until they’d be nothing but hot dust on the floor and in the air.

The closer he got to the queen, the more aggressive and restless Selena was becoming, eyes staring at him with all the predatory intent they could have given out to someone. The beast seemed more afraid for a blob of organic material than for itself: this had to be the way out. He just had to set the thing ablaze and it’d be over. As such, right after spotting it on the ground, he picked up a bucket of what had to be gasoline, smashed the glass with his elbow and poured the contents of the bucket on the creature. It was going to be over soon, finally. It had been going for too long already.

But then she dropped the spear and went straight for the punches, making him let go of the torch in his hand, falling inside the container right as her hand went for the kill.

With the air pulled out of his lungs, Shun fell to the floor, barely landing on his knees as the fire took off. He looked up, only to see that her face hadn’t changed, aside from the smile being replaced with rage and frustration. Before he could attempt getting up, the impact left by her fist in his chest partially numbing him down, the beast kicked him fiercely right in the epicentre of his pain, directly hitting his ribcage with full force, stealing even more air away from him, to the point he dropped from his knees to his fours, elbows witnessing first-hand the roots dying under him.

His ears were soon overwhelmed by the sound of fire starting and Selena’s screams, his shy gaze catching a glimpse of her holding her head in her hands as she yelled, dolour setting all over her expression and limbs. Clearly, this had been pleasant for neither of them; but since they still had to get out of there (something he was only reminded of by hearing a door snap in the background), he got up slowly, breathlessly and took her hand in his to encourage her to leave the room.

As they made their way out of the room, her screams let off, instead replaced with an uncomfortable lack of words. Her breathing was tinted in little hiccups, shallower and quicker than it usually was, none of her composure to be found in it. Despite the concern he had for her, only being able to assume she wasn’t possessed anymore due to the queen having been turned to ash and her unwillingness to attack him from behind, there was something that worried him even more: the pain wasn’t letting off.

In fact, far from it: it was only getting worse, now that adrenaline was wearing off.


	27. Act IX, Scene 2: Out of Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ “I-it’s fine.” (It wasn’t). _

Out of everything that was spoiling her mood and poisoning her mind until her brain had reached the stage of toxicosis, Selena didn’t know what frustrated her the most. Her own incompetence? Her lack of awareness to her surroundings? Her spirit that hadn’t been strong enough to break out of the mental cage it had been imprisoned in? Her inability to offer any reason for Shun to ever forgive her for it? Or the fact she had just given him one of the worst injuries he could have gotten in here?

Tired to think about it and too spiteful to clearly determine what it was exactly, she just deemed every single thing out of that list was frustrating her to no end, and that everything really was her fault.

“Selena?”

Shun’s voice, his _wheezing_ voice to be precise, called her out of her brooding, right as she was starting to tear up from the bottled-up frustration in her chest (she wasn’t the best at applying her own advice, that was for sure). It sounded weaker than the one she was accustomed to, and even if she would have most likely blamed it on his earlier violent sparring with her would have it happened a couple days ago, she could only pin the responsibility of this _fiasco_ on herself.

“…yeah?”

“Don’t give me that tone and look at me. Sulking in a corner won’t be of any help to either of us.”

She obeyed without a hint of doubt. Culprits weren’t allowed to go against the law unless it was the right decision to take, as in meant to restore stomped-on justice. That was, clearly, not her case in the slightest.

“If you’re blaming yourself for that mess, stop. It ain’t your fault and I don’t blame you.”

His aggressive tone was hindered by his difficulty to breathe in properly, yet it still had enough force to make her dwelling waver.

“…if you say so. I’m… I’m still so sorry, Shun.”

“Don’t… stress it.” He was forcing himself, wasn’t he? “Can I ask something of you?”

This sounded like an opportunity for redemption, and if it wasn’t such for him, then it’d be to redeem herself in her own eyes.

“Of course.”

Shun leaned against the wall, a hand holding a part of his left chest, breath feeble and an eye threatening to close on its own. The combination of battle exhaustion and the weight of the injury must have lead to how feeble he suddenly looked in her eyes. Not that it was his fault on that front.

“Could you check that for me? I can’t really see it by myself…”

Oh, right. They had no mirror and the pain must have been too much for him to freely move around to see it with just his eyes. Must have been difficult on the mind of someone who was so bent on working on his own, back when they hadn’t even gotten a single idea of who was the other. Time must have gone by faster that she realized, if this “stranger” and what she had done to him now were the sources of her turmoil.

She jumped out from her bed, not missing a beat, and went to his, almost too timid to install herself next to him on his mattress. It was almost like being a sinner accepted back into the church, the devil made a believer again, on the given reason that people could change and realize the error of their ways. She only could hope to be redeemable now.

Without a word, she lifted up his shirt, trying to ignore her mind screaming at her not to do that, that she didn’t deserve to be this trusted by someone she had just hurt, until her eyes encountered the consequences of her uncontrolled actions and she dropped a swear in the heavy atmosphere, almost dropping everything her hands were doing when noticing how bad it had truly gotten since the impact. Despite having seen corpses before, despite having been trained and sharpened to kill on command, despite having attended funerals as a soldier, she had rarely felt _this_ disgusted at the world, at the system, at herself.

Shun grabbed the hem of his shirt right as she was getting hesitant.

“How is it?”

She wasn’t sure of how she was supposed to describe to him the bruise forming near his ribs, showing under his skin as if coated with a thin drape, a mighty and hideous hematoma within its own standards of appearance. To think she had been able to do that to someone… impressed and scared her all the same.

“It’s bad, right?”

“Y-yeah. They must be at least fractured.”

She thought out for a moment how to pay him back for his forgiveness. How could she possibly fix her mistakes? Of what use could she be about this entire ordeal? She was no surgeon; she couldn’t open him up and piece his ribcage back together like it was just some jigsaw puzzle. She wasn’t a doctor, or even a nurse: she couldn’t diagnose that, especially with no x-rays nearby (not that she’d have known how to use these anyway, the risks were too high to risk poisoning him with ill-dosed radiations).

However, she remembered the lessons she used to receive from Academia about battlefield injuries. Back then, Sora had had his ribs broken by a Resistance fighter that elbowed him in the chest to escape the death sentence (making her wonder if the fighter had gotten away from their bloodied hands in time), and she was responsible for keeping an eye on him when medical staff wasn’t monitoring him. If that was what she thought, she could at least tell if it was closer to a partial or complete fracture. That’d have to do.

Had she not felt this awkward about doing it, Selena would have done with Shun what she’d have with Sora: put her ear next to his chest to hear his breathing. Alas, her crimes and her already muddy-as-is feelings towards his entire existence were preventing her from doing that, so she contented herself of hearing his wheezes.

“You’re feeling short of breath, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it hurt if I gently press here?” Shun yelped in pain, despite the warning, fingers immediately clutching the sheet under them. “…sorry for that.”

“I-it’s fine.” (It wasn’t).

Unsure of her answer, Selena observed his chest rising up and down against the wall, trying to tell if the damn bone was broken or just fissured, until she saw an entire edge appear against his skin and had to retain her disgust for herself.

“…I’m certain you have broken ribs. I can’t tell you with exactitude, but it sounds and looks pretty broken to me.”

She wanted to apologize again for the trouble she was causing him.

“…that’s what I thought. Thanks.”

“You’re… welcome, I guess.”

When she tried leaving his bed right afterwards, his hand following her sleeve, she remembered there was another thing she could do to help, another little thing to make his life a little less painful.

“Wait, stay here, I’m gonna bring you something cold to put against the wound. Pressing a cushion will make it less bothersome, so take mine.”

She threw the item at him with no second thought.

“And you’re gonna sleep on…?”

“The mattress. Should be far than enough.”

He didn’t say anything back, pressing the cushion against his chest.

“Thank you.”

“It’s only normal.”

There was something tickling her on the inside about the smile he was giving her, small and pained, but noticeable and, to her, absolutely genuine. How was such a vengeful spirit, someone who held a rightful grudge against shameless oppressors having stolen away from him his sister before taking for themselves his freedom and a huge part of his dignity as a human being, so forgiving of her? Shouldn’t have he been rising his doubts towards her again knowing she could injure him again would Academia regain control of her?

If she thought about, her hands preparing an icy cold wet cloth and a dry towel on their own, it made sense in his perspective as she saw it. To Shun, she must have just been possessed and unable to access the control panel of her own body and would have never attempted to injure him on purpose. If their physical performances didn’t match, their souls had connected and even clicked, in a way so nondescript to her that she wasn’t capable of stating how that had happened and what it had resulted in within herself. He knew her, her intentions and her mentality: she wouldn’t have hit him for the purpose of making him suffer. That was the only explanation she could find to his odd gentleness towards her.

Exiting the bathroom, Selena only had a vague idea of that, but her hands were full with the proof she was now silently begging for forgiveness behind his back, and another thing to explore within her mind’s lost and uncharted jungle: what was it about him that was so different from the others? Why did he so suddenly matter this much to him, even as a friend and even as a partner in misfortune?

…or maybe she knew the answer already, but it couldn’t have happened to her and in such circumstances, so she brushed it off and tried giving Shun as a smile as she explained how to put the icy cloth against his chest to diminish his pain. Maybe focusing on his physical condition would allow her not to think about the warzone that was her heart. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but she wouldn’t know if she didn’t try, so she got to work and put her guilt aside for now.

Maybe finding something else to obsess over would get her out of her mind’s mess. If that was Shun, that was fine: he was plenty enough to speculate about and take care of. They were soldiers, they were warriors, they understood each other: thinking about him, even in intensities her former affiliation would have deemed unhealthy and to be eradicated, was just caring for her own mental state and her escape from the damn placed.

This was okay. She knew it, it was okay. Everything would probably be fine, even if she had broken his bones because he had forgiven her, because he had taken action when she had only been words and sobs. It’d be fine as long as they were with each other, as long as they could support the other in dire times. One could have said that she was starting to become attached to him, but the truth went deeper than that as, and Selena was realizing it all too late.

Way, way too late.


	28. Intermission IX: Ariana with Waxed-On Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [RURI]  
_ She may as well be the black-winged Icarus the show was talking about. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still here, it's a chapter you may have been looking forward to.

Ruri has made sure she’ll be ready for everything, for anything that can happen. She slept during the day to be able to run for longer distances and faster, as she’ll be fuller of energy doing so. She wrote to Yuto about where she expected to meet him, then their comrades. She extensively discussed with Crow how they were going to handle the escape sequence with the other guards: he’d make her get out by the backdoor only for the employees, where he had met Yuto for the first time.

And, even if she knows plans can always go wrong because Shun got captured as he conducted one with fierce determination and sharp teeth gritted at the enemy, she’s ecstatic to end it here and there. The outcome of it, her freedom, is more than worth the risk; even if she wishes she didn’t have to drag Crow down with her.

Despite how slow time has been to her for the past weeks, everything about this night has so far been quick and dizzying with speed. Starting from the moment Crow opens her cell’s door with a key he’s outright stolen from his superior’s office (a guy universally hated for pulling the hair out of his nose and blowing it at others’ faces while boasting, she’s heard) to the one where she’ll finally be able to breathe in the fresh air of the outsides, she’ll only have a couple minutes to run for her life and her freedom. The complete change of pace is troubling her more than she’d like to admit.

Even as she runs, even as she’s getting breathless, even as she forces herself on continue on as not to get caught again, Ruri focuses on her goals to forget about the pain in her overworked lungs and overexerting legs. Escaping from here means joining back the Resistance, to participate in assaults again, to reunite with everyone, to find Yuto’s embrace again, to save Shun from his current predicament. If that means having to exhaust herself until she’ll be far from this place, she’ll run to the end of the night, take on the fastest journey mankind had ever seen, as it all that matters to her right this instant.

Well, not quite. To motivate herself further, she also focuses on the good sides. Crow’s by her side, willing to do everything in his power to achieve his mission and free his comrade and friend. She can’t let him down, so she’s rushing to the exit with his hand in hers, fully entrusting his life within his fingers, knowing he can flawlessly navigate through the corridors of this damned place. His presence has always been a miracle: she’ll show him how right he was to allow her out at the price of his rank in Academia.

Their rushing footsteps resonate through the empty corridors, the taser in Crow’s hands often using its powers to stun their opponents (great conflicts require great methods, she supposes, even if she isn’t too comfortable with the fact he’s using a weapon to begin with). There’s no time to lose, no minute to spare to regain her breath, despite the suffering her lungs are enduring and the dizziness settling inside her head. She can’t stop until they were out of it, can’t turn her back to see if she’s getting pursued, could only count on the quicker and wordlessly enduring Crow to do the dirty job for her and warn her through coded messages.

Soon enough, Ruri has to start punching her way through the corridors when he’s busy monitoring her escape from behind. With adrenaline pulsing through her members to make up for consumed energy, she’s pushing guards against the wall as to make them lose their balance and get stunned by their heads hitting the walls with all of her might, not having the time to express any sympathy or even starting to feel it. Would she start worrying about her captors, about the persons who imprisoned her and used her as leverage against her own brother they eventually caught using under-handed tactics, she’d never see the end of the labyrinth; so she doesn’t hesitate to press her fingers against the enemy’s neck to make them faint, no matter the gender, their age, their height, their weight, their faction of origin (as if she could see that from the back), jumping over unconscious people’s bodies as if they were mere fences on running tracks.

If she’s to be considered a war criminal, then she may as well borrow some tactics from the unreliable soldiers Academia feared enough to either get killed or made experiments. Only survival matters on the battlefield, isn’t that a thing Shun has always told her?

All of the corridors look like each other, but each flight of stairs her feet eat with no self-restrain gives her hope, making her heart accelerate until it reaches a point where it’s nothing but a bomb about to explode inside its cage of bones. Considering how quickly she’s downing all those steps, to the point she’s starting to wonder on what floor she even is anymore, she can only start feeling the fresh air coming and soothing her strained breathing. Call it a placebo effect: she’s content imagining what’s waiting for her as to continue running, finding herself a carrot to mindlessly run after when she’d have otherwise been too tired to continue pursuing her goals.

However, in her rush, Ruri doesn’t see a ledge rising from the ground and promptly falls, hurting her knees and elbows as she hits the floor. If she has been able to sustain the intense effort until that point, the appearance of pain throws all of that into jeopardy, as it unbalances her metabolism and troubles her mind. She still gets up as quickly as possible, with Crow asking her in a yell if she’s okay after her fall, but she can’t reply. Sadly for him and his kindness, she has to focus on her mission, even if it means not being polite for even a second. She simply has no time to spare.

Her pace is severely hindered by fatigue and small injuries alike, so she has to be more careful about how she’s going to escape. Speed has given stead to stealth and a whole other kind of strategy: hiding in the shadows left by the imperfect neon lights of the ceiling, lying against corners and walls, using distractions. Crow proposes to walk her out on his back: she refuses. It’s her own mission, her biggest dream, she can accomplish it herself. It’s not like she’s injured enough to justify slowing his course down with hers, not to mention the exhaustion he must have felt too.

After excruciating moments, Ruri eventually sees the door to the outside. It’s a backdoor, as she’s expected, unlocked and half-opened, the smell of cigarette slowly slipping through the crack and into the room. This is it, a smile appearing on her face as she thinks she’s just seen Yuto’s hair blowing in the wind through that very same crack, she finally looks behind her to announce the news to Crow…

…but a guard has caught up to her, much taller than her, eyes plunging right into hers with a blizzard for a facial expression.

Panting, panicking, Ruri doesn’t know what to do. Crow and she are both so close to freedom, so close to escaping that she’s forgotten about Plan B. Everything has gone so smoothly, even with the hijack that was her fall, that her mind is blanking right at the very worst moment. This is it. This is the end. It’s all been for nothing: in the end, she’s failed to escape, has failed making Crow’s efforts worth anything, has failed to save her brother and has failed in her last attempt at getting away from Academia’s claws.

She wants to scream, but her throat hurts from the rush.

She wants to hit the guard between his legs like a naughty girl, but her knees hurt from the fall.

She wants to go for it and attempt escaping one last time, but her soul hurts from the idea of leaving Crow behind.

She closes her eyes, hearing the taser of the guard, not wanting to see herself get captured again and go back to her cage, go back to watching Shun suffer through inhumane trials, go back to depending on an unlikely ally and friend to know about the outside world. Not that things are going to be the same as before: they’ll both be trialled and punished like their former leader, like the Sora mentioned in the damn reality show, like Selena who realized the errors of her ways and her own, dear, older brother, Shun, whom she’s only realizing now how much she’s actually missed, have been before them. It’ll be the end for the both of them and she can only blame herself for it.

And yet, even if she may as well be the black-winged Icarus the show was talking about, the foolhardy girl who got too close to the sun when trying to escape from a deadly labyrinth she was forced into, Ruri meets the ground again as the wax of her wings melts to the ground without getting killed from the fall. Instead, as she opens back her eyes, half-laying on the floor, she sees Crow take the bullet for her and fall to the ground, with his last words resonating inside her mind at a dizzying speed.

_We’ll see each other again, Ruri!_

She doesn’t react, at first.

_I’ll be fine! Just… do it…! Get out of here…!_

She’s the Icarus who has been given a second chance at escaping, so she silently nods as he gets tasered again, trying to ignore the horror of her doings and escaped through the door, slams it after her with the strength left in her arms, and runs until she can’t move a foot anymore, panting, wheezing, thoughts racing and heart about to stop from the intensity of beats it’s been put through.

Despite the tragedy that has just happened, Ruri takes on Crow’s mantle and mottos, and sees things in the right light. If he’s been caught committing treason, he’ll still have to be officially trialled. That leaves them with a time window, albeit narrow, to save him too. In the end, she must admit that his plan has succeeded: she was free now, a runaway and most likely already sentenced to death for escaping with a bounty placed over her head, but free. That’s what has always mattered in this mess, right? She’s out, alive and out, and she can finally go back to being useful in her own right.

As she tries taking a breath to continue, she sees Yuto rushing to her from a hiding spot, asking her if she’s alright, but her consciousness is already growing dim. The all-nighter and the escape have tired her out enough not to fully enjoy their reunion, sure, but feeling his warmth again and exchanging a weak kiss is just what she needs for the moment being. It’s the first taste of freedom, the beginning of something new and better.

She’ll save Crow, but for now, she’s saved herself. Patience is key.


	29. Act X, Scene 1: Journey to the End of the Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ Just don’t rush forward, this time. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A non-surprise: me naming something after_ Journey to the End of the Night _.

The beginning of the day was rougher than usual. With how badly she had slept, Selena was even surprised to see Shun going on and about before she was even awake, a hand pressed against his chest to maintain the cushion she had given him. A part of her was still in disbelief that he had even listened to her advice, let alone had taken it seriously, when she had been the one responsible for his injury and was unable to explain what the hell had happened back in the nest of the creature.

On another hand, however, she shouldn’t have been too surprised by this vision, considering he had insisted for her not to blame herself for her sudden loss of control. Easier to be ordered to do so than actually doing it effectively, but the gesture mattered, she supposed. If she saw it that way, then attempting to lessen his pain was her own way to get back to him and mend for her errors.

Or, alternatively, she could stop obsessing over it and get on with her day. That sounded like a good plan.

Once the gears had been set into motion and they had opened the door, albeit not after Shun had expressed his surprise at seeing her wake up this late, the next room picked up on a curious part of her again. As it stood, to her, Academia had very much started running out of ideas as to what made a trial room, because all Selena could see was white, more white, and white to the extent that staring at it for too long may have been able to blind her for life.

The room was absolutely _empty_, devoid of anything to be commented on that wasn’t the elephant having settled there. There was nothing to be seen, and she meant there absolutely was _nothing_ to be seen. It was just white with nothing else to counterbalance it, a purity fanatic’s fantasy. It was clean and disinfected to the point the smell of detergents was making her sick and making Shun struggle with his already weakened breathing. It was like setting a foot in a hospital that abused its cleaning staff, leading to the entire place losing life trying to preserve it. If there was a metaphor to all this, she had her idea of what it was creeping in the back of her mind, but she didn’t want to acknowledge even in the tiniest part of that.

“The fuck is this?” Shun wondered out loud as he observed the room.

“I don’t have even the ounce of an idea.”

“Guess we’re just supposed to get to the other side…? I can see the door from here.”

_Let’s just hope there isn’t going to be a secret, instant-death gap again_, she thought.

“Let’s do that.”

He gave her a smirk as he looked right into her eyes.

“Just don’t rush forward, this time.”

“Talk for yourself,” she snickered back. “Let’s not waste any time here and continue.”

Walking to the other side of the room, at first, was filled with dread: the fear of that gap was still very much present in both of their minds. Nothing guaranteed that, this time, they’d be able to grab a ledge or get tricked by a physics-defying fog. Their lives were too fragile not to be careful to their surroundings, Shun’s injury and his fear of her demise had reminded her of that lesson taught to her by Academia that, for once, hadn’t gotten countered or invalidated by her experience, quite the opposite, in fact. Her eyes were sharp, her ears were cautious, even her footsteps were slow as to try and cancel out their echoes. Even just a cough could have startled her, in this state and mindset.

Her caution was deteriorating with each step taken. Her pace quickened, her impatience grew: was nothing going to happen? Was this it, just a blank corridor supposed to test their diligence or something? That really was adding insult to the already too-deep injury. Oh well, she’d show just how wrong they were to underestimate their duo…

“Wait… Selena, wait…”

She got torn away from her thoughts of vengeance and showing what she was capable of when Shun’s feeble voice reached her ears, prompting her to tilt her head to her side, but there was nobody there anymore, and the figure she was searching for was way behind her, clutching his side with his arm and shoulder against a wall.

“Shun, what’s wrong?!” she asked, panicked, as she rushed to his side.

His shallow breathing was giving it away, but he still didn’t tell her, instead looking aside.

“I’m sorry, I should have been more careful. Here, have my shoulder.”

They resumed their walk soon after, Shun by her side, walking on his own, but at a much slower pace than what she was used to from him. Still, she forced herself to match hers with his, refusing to allow him to crash against a wall a second time. They’d get through this _together_, she had sworn it under a personal and almost imaginary oath, there was no way that she was giving up on him this easily and for such a petty reason too. Words alone didn’t matter, had no presence of their own outside of speeches: actions, influenced or not by what had been said, were what changed the world, what made a real impact. She had to do what she had sworn to, nothing more complicated than that.

Their pace was frustratingly slow as a result of her attempt at matching their speeds. It was downright frustrating to limit herself when she could have sprinted through a room that couldn’t have contained anything more than cameras prying at them from everywhere, from the ceiling to the floor and plastered on the four walls surrounding them.

The path seemed to take longer and longer to reach the door, as if they were walking down an infinite corridor whose exit simply was a mirage in the desert, an optical illusion that was flaunted at them like a laser to a cat, but neither of them wanted to play: they didn’t have the time of peace of mind to relax and take anything easy, unlike what some people seemed to think above their heads and outside the box. If this was a hope spot, she’d try breaking the wall with her own feet.

The issue didn’t rely on her, though, and she still had to realize how much she was self-centred. If her slow speed frustrated her, then she should put herself in Shun’s shoes and imagine how it was walking around with a couple broken ribs. He may have even noticed her growing impatience, as his pace had momentarily quickened before going back to a less uncomfortable, less effective one. That was just karma coming back for her, she assumed, just some divine law here to make her understand she wasn’t alone anymore and had to care for her companions like Sora, then Shun had cared for her when she had needed it. Not that hard of an Aesop to learn.

“Are you okay?” She asked him as she focused on his ragged breath. “We can take a break if you need to.”

“I… I’ll be fine. The earlier we get there, the better.”

“I know, but…. You’re sure you’re going to be okay until then? We’ve been here for a long time already and the door has just started growing in size.”

“Told you. I’ll be… just fine.”

“If you say so… Warn me if you need to sit down, okay?”

He nodded without any other word and they resumed walking yet again, wondering if the exit was actually a thing here.

As it turned out, Selena had been wrong to worry so much about being tricked by a mirage: the door was real. Shun’s condition was what had made it look so far away: their pace had been slow enough to prevent them from truly running to the exit despite the lack of hazards on the way. On second thought, it was even worse than that: the danger had been implied, was lying between the two of them. It was as if they had predicted at least one of them would get injured by the time they’d have reached this room: this was a way to test their patience, not their skills.

In itself, that was way worse than what had first met her glance. These people were ready to exploit every single flaw of their prey, like predators making plans to make their food survive in torture as soon as possible, not even the right way of the soldier. A warrior respected their enemy: they ended their dishonour quickly by killing them as fast and painlessly as possible. She believed in euthanasia on the battlefield – was the tiniest bit of relieved that Sora had had a quick demise and wasn’t in her place, stuck in a physical purgatory that had no moral meaning whatsoever –, they believed in keeping alive who suffered.

Despicable, inhumane and needlessly cruel. That was how _Shun_, a Resistant, saw Academia. That was how they _were_. Disgraces to her faction, to her comrades, to what they were supposed to be standing for.

When her fingers could _finally_ fumble with the door handle, Selena was sighing from relief internally and externally. They had _finally_ made it; they’d _finally_ be able to do something that wasn’t nearly aimlessly walking in a blinding room. They were both alive, even if her patience was in the gutter and that Shun’s breathing and stance kept worsening, they’d _finally_ be somewhat safe and able to rest properly. She needed to mend her mind, he needed to give his body a rest. She didn’t look back once she was certain he was following her just well, sighing in relief and exasperation alike and anew, swearing never to even give a glance to that damn room ever again.

Fuck this trial bullshit already, wasn’t _ten_ enough of this hell? Wasn’t _ten_ of these stupid rooms with no other intentions than to hurt them even further close to satisfactory for them?! Did they need to inflict even more damage to them?!

Questions without any possible or tangible answer. She had promised herself to stop pestering her mind with these. Not all lessons had been learnt there, that was for sure.


	30. Act X, Scene 2: Bellflower Toxicosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SHUN]  
_ When he looked at himself through his mind’s eye, Shun was currently nothing more than his own shadow. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm way too proud of that chapter title.

He’d have liked to never have to admit it, but Shun was absolutely delighted to see a resting room again, clean and calm, where the floor wasn’t white and where he could put his body on the bed and just think of anything that wasn’t immediate survival. While he’d never reach peace of mind in this fucking place, he could at least pretend to and slump into the pretence of one, pretend for a minute or so that nothing was wrong with him and that it’d be just fine.

But the thing was that the image of his comrades’ faces was starting to fade, ever so slightly, and that there was the growing fear in his heart that he’d eventually forget about the features of Yuto and Ruri, whose face couldn’t be replaced with Selena’s mirage.

The pain flaring in his chest didn’t show any sign of vanishing anytime soon. Not that he expected it to get better, but he could have at least hoped for it to reduce a little, even if just to let him sleep somewhat peacefully in the night. Insomnias were going to be taxing on the mind, even more so than just sleeping with such an injury poisoning his nerves. That punch had fucked him up in more ways than one, that was for sure.

It wasn’t even unlike he wasn’t used to pain. He was, in fact, way too used to it compared to Selena: he had endured her possessed self’s multiple attempts at attacking him, including almost getting sucker punched. Living as an Xyz renegade had made him into someone with endurance, raw strength and the capacity to endure until he’d be in a safer setting where he could actually show he was in pain without feeling like he was unnecessarily endangering himself.

In the end, though, Yuto had been right: he was a glass cannon. He was all hit and no defence, all assault and no besieging. He was a machine gun hitting as much as it could without taking the time or care to think about its survival in the war once it’d be out of bullets to fire. That was an odd, yet crucial, thing to forget when he had in front of his eyes the definition of a weapon deemed obsolete and unwanted anymore: Selena.

Their relationship had taken an unexpected turn (as “unexpected” as it could be, considering nothing could be expectable right now) when she had gotten her consciousness stolen from her by their captors. They had never requested or even needed it against their will, but at this point, he was almost resigned to the fact it’d always be this way: just shit jumping at their throats, constantly, restlessly, like never-ending nightmares. They could just get out of there or die trying: there was no way he was contenting himself from a little room and a fake sense of being alive.

But what hurt him the most wasn’t his broken ribs, or the claustrophobia definitely eating at his soul more and more every day, or even the settling despair of possibly never seeing the light of day again and remaining forever in the unknown of time – it was realizing how weak he was becoming.

(Wait – wasn’t “relationship” strong of a word?)

When waking up in this place, Shun had everything going for him: his physical strength, a capacity to maintain his head cool even when faced by hardships and not having to rely on someone else to succeed in whatever next stupid thing Academia was pulling on them. He was as strong as ever, independent and unrestrained, able to smash through imaginary and physical walls with ease and able to fire all his bullets to recover his freedom.

But that was before and now was now: when he looked at himself through his mind’s eye, Shun was currently nothing more than his own shadow.

He was weak. He had only made it this far because Selena had been there when he had needed someone to help him out. She was the one who was keeping his pain in check because she knew what she had known what to do. Their collaboration sounded more and more like him having to depend on her while she continued soaring high into the sky like the bird flying out from the hedged maze. Meanwhile, he had lost most of his strength from getting injured, had cried a couple times already and his use was only going to dwindle from there on. Talk about a weight.

As he looked at her going around her pouch, shuffling her tarot cards, he had to wonder: why was Serena even sticking with him anymore? These bracelets around their wrists had to have been lies all along, because otherwise he’d have been poisoned when she had fallen off into the void. If their point was to make him think she was dead, then why give him a sign that she was still alive and not kill him? Why was he even trying to make sense of a sadistic, gratuitous killing game? Executing them both like her Sora had been would have more than enough and cost less. Academia just didn’t make any sense whatsoever, did they?

Selena deserved better than having to drag him with her, but he was too proud to outright admit it and ask her the question himself. She must have had some reason, perhaps still believing they needed to stick together to get out of a place that had run out of budget, but it was a reason he didn’t know and, frankly, had no idea what the hell she could possibly find within him that she deemed good for her. She deserved so much better than a wounded soldier who couldn’t take care of his injuries on his own.

Usually, he hated having questions left unanswered fester inside his mind. He had always strived for answers, for the only way he could find some kind of peace inside himself. Academia had managed to rob that away from him when facing him with the possibility that he may as well never been able to leave their immaculate dystopia of a former lab turned “innovative” prison; yet the questions he was left hanging on the most weren’t about the Daedalus, and he knew well deep inside himself that he had had too much pride until today to really admit it even to himself.

He wasn’t concerned about his utility. He had proved it before, even if it was becoming muddier and muddier for him, sinking into the shadows of physical weakness the more time went on. If he was concerned about being of use to her and not just her burden, it was perhaps not so much because of him, but because of her: he wanted to be useful not to him, but to her, because at this point, he was certain she could make it out without his presence. Him, on the other hand… He needed her, now, in case anything physical was involved.

He supposed he had weakened enough to not only admit it to himself, but also being aware of the fact he was too crippled by his condition to go on much further. It’d have to end quickly if he didn’t want his corpse to rot surrounded by meaningless white.

There was something about Selena that made her different from everyone else he had ever met and bonded with. She was more than a friend, this much was clear: they were partners trekking through dangers together, just the two of them against an enemy much bigger than them. They were companions that had forged a strong bond (or so he hoped) because they were similar, but different enough to be interesting and mysterious to the other (he supposed on her behalf, he had always been quiet and cryptic according to everyone else he had ever known before, and she had asked him personal questions about himself before), and he was just pleased to collaborate with her, to play card games with her, to discuss their cultural differences and similar morals, discovering what was splitting them apart and what made them not so different from the other after all.

He didn’t want her to abandon him, simply put. It was ridiculous for someone like him, a soldier that had survived fights with his renegade troops, ambushed other soldiers and armies, lead strikes and uprisings, that had managed to swallow the disappearance of his sister by clinging onto the hope she was still alive, fake promises and throwing all of himself into the Resistance’s cause. He should have been used to being discarded because individuals mattered less than the group during wars, to seeing his loved ones disappear under his eyes or behind his back from a reason of the other. Hadn’t he been shell-shocked enough for this?

The way he felt around Selena was completely foreign to him. He didn’t even understand himself and his own soul anymore. He felt attached to her, sure, and he’d have protected her at all costs from the dangers of the Daedalus, whether she needed it or not. He’d have jumped into the black-shrouded gap with her. He’d have drunk the cyanide if it meant proving her right and allowing her to escape. He’d have gotten his ribs broken again if it meant having her free from this place. But that didn’t make it any different from Ruri or Yuto: he’d have sacrificed everything he had for them too, everything that wasn’t the Resistant cause or someone he cared so much for again.

The thing was, he wouldn’t have wanted to clutch Yuto against his chest for no reason. He wouldn’t have held Ruri like his life depended on it if he had just seen her fall into a gap: he’d have assumed she was fine if she still smiled to him and told him “big brother, I’ll be just fine”, even if he’d have still asked her a couple times if that was the case. What made Selena so much different from them?! What was it about her, her face that was so like Ruri’s and her warrior instincts that reminded him of Yuto going to war, her mannerisms that reminded him of comrades and her morals that were almost just like his?!

Just what made her so different from everyone else when she was just another girl?!

She wasn’t just another girl, _that_ was the issue.

She was the one whose presence had never truly bothered him. She was the one who had broken his bones, but whom had cried hot tears over her own punches and helped bring him back to a more stable state. She was the one who had consoled after an artificial fever dream, the one whom he had clutched against him when he had thought she had died, the one whose shoulders he had relied on. She was the one who had made a breakthrough, the one who wouldn’t escape his mind even when he didn’t see her and could ignore her through escapist fantasies at night and showers before heading for another day of bullshit.

She was the one thing he could be grateful for in this damn mess.

And they lived in a world where all he could about this was either cry over it or gulp everything down and let beautiful, delicate, graceful bellflower poison give him toxicosis of the lungs, rot his liver and dissolve his heart wide awake.

He’d have been grateful for that, actually.

Would have pained him less to die in her arms.


	31. Intermission X: May Rigged Dices Be Thrown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [CROW]  
_ I only did the right thing. _

“Officer Crow Hogan, what do you have to say in your defence?”

Crow doesn’t know the law of Academia. In fact, he’s never cared for it, because he’s more than certain it’s complete crap. His trial doesn’t have any of it applied to him anyway: he’s meant to be condemned and sentenced to whatever horrible fate these douchebags want him to have. Nothing he’ll say will save him from the tomb he has, to their eyes, dug for himself. He doesn’t even have an attorney or something alike to defend him. They want him to be unable to go against them, if not dead. In times like these, thinking can’t do him any good, no matter what Martha, then Yusei, could have told him before.

“I only did the right thing.”

He looks around the room. Everybody else stares at him with these vindictive, envious, infuriated eyes: it’s not every day that someone as trusted as he was until that day betrays Academia, and they’re pissed at him for letting the girl go. Everyone but Asuka, that is, who has her hands on her chest and a face trying to hide her anguish. He’s still relieved that she didn’t dragged along with him, that she’s kept her reputation as a viable, loyal Academia soldier: she hasn’t lost her freedom, not yet.

Yusho is nowhere to be seen, just as he’s seen coming: he vanished from Academia’s headquarters without a trace a few days ago, not even leaving Asuka or him a message, and Crow is now certain that the guy got suicided by someone else. Unheard bounties on top of people’s heads, huh? There isn’t even the faintest tint of surprise to be found within him about that, not even a touch of disappointment: he doesn’t have any expectation for these guys, kind of never had, _none_.

“And how is that the “right” thing to do, _traitor_?”

“You’re really gonna listen?”

Ah, sure feels good to finally let himself show the true colour of his feathers. He’s got nothing to lose anymore and everything on his chest to say.

“Do not show you insubordination, traitor. It is but in your best interest to do so.”

“Oh, sure, I’ll believe you.”

A guard next to him, a former colleague with an unfamiliar face and hatred splattered all over his face, hits him with his stick right where his taser wound was still sore. Heh, they’re as ill-intentioned and mean-spirited as ever, aren’t they? How _delightful_.

“Do you plead guilty or not guilty?”

“What if I say I’m innocent?”

Another hit to his chest.

“Ow… Okay, getcha. I plead not guilty.”

In the audience, Asuka has the tiniest smile.

The judges speak between themselves. He has no attorney to defend himself, no attorney to fight against him: this is as rigged as it can possibly get. Not that he’s surprised about it, quite the opposite, but it still stings. This has to be how Sora, then Selena, and finally Shun, were sentenced to death: defenceless, put through a farce of a trial, with nobody else to possibly be able to help them because nobody could see the joke from the outside.

Despicable. Purely and simply _despicable_.

“We shall recapitulate the reasons why you are judged today, Officer Hogan.”

Yeah, yeah, sure, go for it. Nobody’s going to stop it anyway, no?

“Originating from the Synchro Faction, Academia has graciously offered you to join her ranks as a loyal servant who would help her. She went as far as to give you the prestigious position of a guard in her headquarters, her very heart.” (Keep telling yourself all this shit is glorious and graceful, maybe it’ll end up functioning and becoming true if you take enough drugs while lying to yourself.) “However, you betrayed her trust and stabbed her in the back like the Synchro filth you have always been. There is no legitimate reason to do so, which brings me to ask on behalf of all of Academia why you have done such egregious acts as liberating high-profile prisoner XYZ2,” (she has a _name_ and it’s _Ruri,_ you bastards), “and leaking to the outside confidential information about Project Daedalus.”

“Same reason as before. I did what was right, judge.”

He gets elbowed in the ribcage yet again by the douchebag next to him. Heh, dog of Academia, ready to lick someone’s boots and throw someone else’s entire life and future under the bus if it means earning more golden bits by the end of the month. Clearly the main symptom of misery that can’t diagnose itself.

The judge’s voice gets sterner, harder on the ears, as if rising it will get any effect on him that isn’t just pissing him off even further. Is there a stage of rage above rage? Because it seems like his mouth is about to swear itself off right in the middle of session. That’s how little he cares about appearances and saving his own ass anymore: it’ll be escape or death, no compromising anymore. He’s had more than enough of their bullshit.

“Officer Hogan, if you do not stop with this disrespectful and childish attitude, we will have to end the session with a death verdict.”

“As if you weren’t planning on killing me in the first place.”

He swiftly avoids another hit by tilting his body, the stare of the officer digging into his eyes like a vulture in search of a corpse in a pharmacy.

He has nothing to lose anymore. His last mission was to get Ruri out of there: he accomplished with success, the bird freed from her cage and flying far, far away from the walls she was kept inside for way too long. She matters more than his rank in Academia: everything does, in fact. His mother, his best friends, the kids of the orphanage and his fellow Resistance members have all been more important than the mask he was badly wearing in the corridors of a modern depiction of Hell, where souls come to collapse on the shore, never to leave again, broken beyond repair before disappearing forever to fuel the gears of a cruel, inhumane machine.

He’ll never bear seeing this spread to the entire human species, so he prefers cutting everything right this instance and bathe in the light of freedom again. The orphanage now earns enough for him not to be absolutely needed anymore.

The hammer hits the wood.

“On this day, and by unanimous decision of the jury, Officer and Central Guard Crow Hogan shall perish under Academia’s righteous fire and his memory shall be condemned to oblivion.”

Just as expected. They’ve always been so _predictable_.

“Get him to his last home.”

With that, he sees Asuka retain her shock and tears in, and lets himself be taken away from the outside world. He’ll see it again, sooner or later, anyway, one way or the other.

Ruri will come for him, he knows it.


	32. Act XI, Scene 1: Glory to Academia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ It was odd to feel her motivation and certitudes suddenly starting to crawl down her back in bullets of cold sweat when those had been the one thing she had clung onto for so long. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot this week's update too, thanks to the NaNoWriMo going on... But hey, I remembered to update BWI! That's a good thing, isn't it?

The first thought that had come up to Selena on that new morning was how she had never regretted her switch from pleading allegiance to Academia without a single question. She was, in fact, glad to have developed a mind wrapped in critical judgement, a spirit of her own with her own opinions and thought process. Looking at Shun was looking right into what she had been fighting for: freedom, justice and a cause she could only describe as just and justified. She was both proud of herself for sticking to her guns once her mind had been made up and proud of them for getting this far, together, undivided, elbows attached like two weeds resisting against the invasive flowers pretending to be beautiful.

How fitting, considering today’s main dish was about allegiances. It was like they could read inside her mind which, frankly, disgusted her beyond no avail just supposing that could have possibly been the case. She refused to believe in coincidences anymore.

Three sounds were smashing against her temples right at this instant: Shun’s degenerating breathing, that wasn’t anything better than constant wheezing at this point, her vivid heartbeats, and a voice she hadn’t heard in who-knew-how-long, that she still hadn’t missed despite that.

“FSN2. In her great generosity, Academia is giving you a choice on this trial. Pledge your allegiance back to her and you will both be spared from the trial before you. You will also get your freedom back under her gracious and forgiving wings. Refuse to come back to her and you will be both forced to go through the trial.”

Her choice was made. There was no way she was coming back to them, not after this, not after discovering their true nature and making this pact with herself to do the right things following her heart and only that.

“…You do not to make your mate suffer more than he already has, right, FSN2?”

Her blood froze in her veins.

It was odd to feel her motivation and certitudes suddenly starting to crawl down her back in bullets of cold sweat when those had been the one thing she had clung onto for so long. Not that she didn’t believe in them anymore: far from it. It was because she was a firm warrior in their names that she didn’t want to give up on them and found herself to be so hesitant. Would have she been alone, she’d have immediately rushed into the training parkour course landed out before her, knowing she could complete with almost with her eyes closed, her knowledge of Academia’s soldier-making devices had always been one of the greatest in their ranks.

She could easily fight against them with her raw skill and experiences, show them they were yet again underestimating their former Cerberus; but Shun couldn’t possibly be able to make it out of such a thing without betting his whole life on it. At least, not anymore. She had no doubts he could have gone through this with no issue whatsoever if it wasn’t for…

“Go for it,” she heard him wheeze next to her hear, hand clutching the fabric covering her unspoken shame.

“But, Shun… You’re…”

“Injured. I _know_.”

“This,” she should have been this dumbfounded, yet she was. “This is _military training_, Shun. You won’t be able to survive that.”

“There’s no damn way in fuckin’ hell that I’m giving you back to them for a broken rib.”

He gave her a smile, right as her hands wanted to tangle with each other.

“We’re gonna get through this together, so just trust me.”

She didn’t dare asking if he was really certain about going through with it, but the fierce flame in his bruised eyes somewhat convinced her, albeit not without lukewarmth to her decision, in her choice. She turned back to the source of the voice.

“Get out of my sight.”

The black, blank screen she had stared to her reflection into finally went back into the ceiling, leaving them both alone together amidst the dirtied walls and floor made out of dirt. This was giving her a puzzling feeling of déjà-vu, as if she had already been there before and done some training with people now long gone from her life, physically or mentally, shadows of her former self’s mentality, life and motivations alike.

With Shun by her side, she faced the old, wooden and metallic structures that had plagued her days and nights for a long time. They gave off a distant vibe, like something that didn’t belong her life anymore, that was foreign to her now and had been so familiar before. Change of heart indeed.

“Wait, there’s something odd about all of this,” she suddenly realized out loud as she examined the training course. It seemed to be just like in her memories, making her think she may have been here before (even if the fact Academia had always liked to standardize everything made her doubt this theory), but that was what made it all the more jarring to her.

“What is it? I don’t see anything odd with this.”

“We’re two, but there’s only one of these.”

He didn’t verbally respond, but instead inspected the structures.

“They ran out of budget,” he then added as he pointed towards the course with his finger, “but they still thought about having us two get through it.”

Oh, right, the fences around it. No way to walk around the problem.

“Tch.”

_That_ sentiment lingered in her chest but, since she had lost the ability to retain some of these thoughts to herself, they still poured out of her mouth like water in a flood.

“…you’re sure you can do this, Shun? I don’t doubt that you could usually power through it, but right now…”

“I’d rather pierce a lung than having to watch you go back to them.”

Well, there was no doubt he was ready for this; so, without waiting another moment, she invited them to go forward.

“I’ll go first to show you how it’s done,” she told him as she gripped onto the rope laid before a tall fence of wooden planks.

Her muscle memory was doing all the work for her: grab the rope, walk on the wall fast while making sure you’re keeping your balance, elevate yourself on top not to be ridiculed in front of everyone. In a twirling jump, she made it on top, looking back on Shun already going for it. For someone with a broken rib or two, he didn’t look too hindered by it, if she ignored his laboured breathing. He joined her soon after.

“That… wasn’t hard… Let’s get on with it.”

“Take a breath, I’ll take care of it first.”

He nodded.

The rest of the course really was just like in her soldier’s memories: climbing over a wall, crawling in a tunnel-like space without feeling like she was suffocating, trekking through a pool of mud, trying not to fall into the two-person-deep pool of acid by keeping her balance on a shaky bridge. The failures and the successes she had seen on this course were vividly coming back to her, pushing her to complete these ever faster than ever, a healthcare motivation pulsing through her veins and making her heart pound from the physical and emotional efforts. Never again, she had sworn when she had been sentenced. Never would she lower herself to Academia’s methods of rising children into weapons, so she cheated first with her principles, then with theirs.

_Shun, walk around the wall, there should be enough space for you to do so!_

When she was still breathless from her own efforts, she reminded herself that he was constantly running out of room in his lungs, and screamed on top of hers, even if it burnt the inside of her trachea at times. She’d try sharing his pain so he could make it out in one bit.

_Walk over the wooden tunnel, Shun, it’ll be less dangerous for you!_

Pain in her legs, arms tired from the training, she tried to come over her own low instincts. She may have been in pain herself, but compared to him, she had nothing to complain about except sore muscles and thoughts in a real shamble at night. If she wasn’t focusing on giving advice, she’d have

_It’s not real acid, just a ploy, so if you fall into the pool, grip the edges and go on from there!_

With the course done, he made it out alive with her in front of the door, albeit not without having completely run out of breath and collapsing before her, hands barely keeping him off the floor.

“Shun, you’re okay?!” she asked in a hurry as she lowered to his level, on her knees, while he wheezed air in and out.

“’ve known… better… ’ll… be… fine…”

A tiny, moved smile made it onto her lips.

“C’mon, let’s get to safety now… okay?”

“Yeah…”

She got back on her feet and gave him her hands, gently pulling him back on his. She fought the urge to relish in his life with an embrace, instead opening the door and retaining another feeling from growing in her chest and overcome her mind and body. With him relying on her shoulders, they entered the next room, hoping this could be the last time they’d get their weaknesses abused.

Oh, who was she kidding? These guys always had a next time to do that. What truly mattered was their tandem still existing and the freedom of their minds getting maintained, at this point.


	33. Act XI, Scene 2: Séléné Atropaïa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SELENA]  
_ I’m glad I got to meet you, Shun. We make a good duo. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is a mythology chimera, as "Atropaia" ([she] who protects) is a title associated not to Selene, but Hekate, and I just took a lot of liberties there haha. They're both moon deities, though, so it has to balance stuff out, right?

Despite her earlier desperation, despite the smile she had given to Shun before arriving here, despite the short-lived relief leading to a weak euphoria of sorts, Selena was furious. Downright _furious_.

Academia had been for the longest time all kinds of low, but this had to have taken the cake. They knew how to pull on their two weakest ropes: his broken ribs and her desire for freedom. They knew where to hit so it’d hurt the most: her former affiliation to them and his inability to breathe or move properly. Because she couldn’t betray him, she had had to make him suffer; all because some sick souls up above watching their every move had decided it’d be something funny to watch while eating dinner.

Truly, if Shun was still alive to this very moment, it was thanks to anyone and anything but her.

The number of things she was dissatisfied with kept growing. Academia was still thrusting the first place, with a list of reasons why she was going to end up killing someone in there even if just to wind out some stress and anger stored against it all that kept growing and growing to the point she wasn’t even sure of its length anymore: her imprisonment, Sora’s artificial fall from grace then rigged trial and death by execution, the Daedalus in its entirety, Ruri’s fate in their cells, the Xyz Faction’s pain, her own loss of freedom and honour, their mentality, their morals or lack thereof, their underhanded methods to get anyone to bow to their twisted wills, Shun’s existence itself and her own being all were reasons for that, for the fire in her heart being impossible to even temporarily put out.

She was _that_ angry and _that_ frustrated. Nothing could stop her rage anymore.

“Selena?”

Shun, whom she thought was still sleeping from an exhaustion-induced nap, surprised her out of her introspective groove. Good timing, she supposed, if she took in account the fact they wouldn’t get anything accomplished by just standing there and repeating her thoughts in her head like it was an echo chamber.

“Y-you need something, Shun?”

When she finally looked at him, his expression was blank, albeit a little pained. Dark rings looking into dark rings, she had no way to tell what he could have been thinking. Talk about being infatuated and not knowing who you were falling for against your will.

“For someone who told me to stop bottling everything up, you sure are garbage at listening to your own advice.”

“Come again?”

“I’m tone-deaf as fuck,” he replied in a flat tone, “but I can still tell you’re pissed off over something. I’m frustrated too, y’know. Let’s rage together.”

“…what a weird suggestion to make.”

He shrugged, only to hassle in pain.

“Fuck, that was bad decision…”

He got himself together right afterwards, sparing himself the hassle of moving his arms too high in the air anymore.

“Would make time go faster, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.”

Taking a deep breath, Selena opened the gates and let the room be flooded in all the negative thoughts she had been storing. Her grudge against Academia, the white walls that never changed, the lack of daylight and real air, the friend she still missed even after she had decided mourning time was over, the white floors that never changed, the faces of comrades that had turned against her as soon as she had been suspected of belief treason recently coming back to her, the white ceiling that never changed, her grudge against herself for his ribs that kept pestering her to that moment, the white rooms to rest that never changed, the punishments for essentially wanting to live by her own rules and morals, the sickening disinfectant smell that never changed, everything, anything, and her own brain that was starting to get itself all tangled up over nothing.

It felt liberating, really. It was like casting away her misery by sharing a piece of it with someone that she trusted, but in the end didn’t know. The Shun she thought she knew had to have been someone that didn’t exist, that wasn’t the one standing right before her with his eyes locked on her and his eyebrows set in place. That was sad, but that was life for you: a bunch of awful events and realizations wrapped in a package with some silver lining. To that, she could only mentally sigh: being this negative was tiring her out immensely.

But Shun picked the ball up she had thrown and launched it to higher skies. He didn’t seem to care if she was almost crying when revealing that, when she was sure he’d have minded considering how he’d have considered it to be weak-minded (though, with the condition he currently was in, he may have been more indulgent on her for that very reason), instead agreeing on almost all of her reasons to be angry, letting some of his own steam off. Even worked up and injured, she was finding him to be charismatic, to draw her to his words that’d have sounded basic otherwise.

That wasn’t the moment to be thinking about how much she’d have potentially asked him to hang out had she not been stuck in some maze. Not that she’d even done that with anyone before, c’mon, that was such a ridiculous thought to have right now… She needed to be serious. This was an affair of survival, after all.

Alas, Shun was unpredictable, or at least more than she had guessed about him, and the conversation took another turn altogether. Not that she minded: sometimes, letting off steam was necessary, but delving too much into negative thoughts with someone else also turned her off, making her grateful, albeit surprised, for the change of pace.

“Let’s play some cards again.”

“Huh?” Maybe he needed a change of pace from their angst too. “W-well, sure, why not.”

He was about to get up, as she could see from his arms rising the rest of his bodies with them, but her mouth spoke for her thoughts before he could finish what he was doing.

“W-wait, Shun! Stay where you are, I’ll bring the cards to you!” She fumbled with her pouch quickly after she said that, almost taking her tarot cards instead of the rightful deck.

He let out an amused sigh. “Yeah, sure, if you want.”

Moments later, they were sharing his bed, him with his back against the head and her sitting with her legs crossed on the other side. If her mind hadn’t been focused on the heated game of Crazy Eights currently taking place, she’d have surely felt embarrassed by sharing a bed with him, even in an innocent and purely for convenience atmosphere. Sure, it was her idea, so she had to assume the consequences of it, but… it didn’t feel the same than when Sora nudged against her in their personal quarters, asking her if she wanted to share his stash of candy with him. It just wasn’t the _same_.

While she didn’t dare rising her eyes too much from her cards, whenever it was his turn, she’d always slightly rise her gaze to see how he was holding up in their game. If he didn’t spot her most of the time, each time he did, he’d redden and look away before delving back into his hand. She didn’t know if she was supposed to giggle at his reactions or feel awkward because she was doing the exact same thing whenever the opposite way around happened. This was awkward, so awkward, that it was almost killing her from embarrassment. Someone save them from being this unable to share any space together without behaving like this…

They killed the awkwardness between them by talking about other subjects, like daily life and anecdotes. Shun was especially prone to talk about his sister whenever they rolled with lighter topics, usually throwing a jab or two at his best friend for managing to capture the heart of Ruri before his eyes. Seemed like someone was jealous, so she picked the ball up and threw it in another direction that, despite its obviously ill-mannered nature, was picking her curiosity.

“Did you ever date someone yourself?” she asked, the beating of her heart increasing tenfold, making it vastly harder to ignore the pounding resonating within her.

“…_what_? Erh, well,” he swallowed, “no. Ain’t interested in that.” He put a four of spades on their pile. “Your turn.”

“What a coincidence, neither did I. I’ve never met the right person to ever think about this option, I guess.”

Yeah, keep telling that to yourself. There was no way that he’d have been interested in her anyway: they lived in entirely different worlds, coming from separated spheres whose only common point was to match the same government. Talk about an unlikely thing to happen between them.

“…ah, okay.”

That was a bad conversation to start up, Selena.

Their games ended in a victory for her. As she left his bed, she noticed he was yawning with a closed mouth, making her almost smile (there were several layers of wrong there to even think that about her companion in misfortune), with a last piece of conversation shared between them.

“I’ve gotta admit something.”

His faint voice still reached her ears, prompting her to turn back when she was putting her deck back into her pouch.

“Huh?”

“It’d have been a lot worse to go through this without you.”

She felt blood reach to her cheeks and ears at unbelievable speeds.

“S-same here.” She cleared her throat as to regain her composure. “I’m… I’m glad I got to meet you, Shun. We make a good duo.”

That slight smile of his was going to kill her credibility sooner or later…

“Yeah. Let’s get out of there together and show them what we can do.”

“As if we weren’t doing just that already.”

One more reason to escape the maze, she thought: the world needed to witness the strength and forces of their tandem. They were a force to be feared, an unlikely combination doomed to fail that had worked maybe a little too much in the end. It made her a bit too happy to hear Shun himself say it, cementing her thoughts as something real that she could hear and see. She wasn’t just a delusional prisoner anymore.

Maybe all she wanted anymore was a world where they could remain partners and not suffer from systemic oppression and dirty, under-handed tactics. For him, for her, and for everyone else. That sounded like a thing Sora would have wanted and something where Shun and his sister could reunite and be happy to do so. That sounded like such a great thing, like a dream worth pursuing in even the slightest odds to make it true…

That must have just been a utopia, though, like her wish to always remain by his side and have him always by hers. He’d inevitably run away from her and the terrible memories that she’d automatically bring back to him from this awful place and experience.

In another world, she may have been able to admit to herself she had fallen for the enemy and his vision of how things should have been.


	34. Intermission XI: Eleventh-Hour Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [CROW]  
_ He’ll keep his promise to Ruri, that way _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you ask for more cameos? Because I made sure to provide anyway.

Crow’s stuck with nothing else to do in a cold, barely habitable cell eating his typical prisoner dinner (that makes him share one of Ruri’s former pains) when a bomb explodes right next to the wall. The sound makes him drop his plate of pseudo-mashed potatoes and the light’s still blinding him but, in the midst of the gunpowder flowing in from the hole, he can still see the oddest occurrence: a little, blue-haired boy dressed in a blue vest perhaps too big for his petite composure and shorts, a lollipop in his mouth, climbing inside the cell and finishing his ascension with a twirling jump.

“Your taxi’s here!” the boy says, pumping his chest and offering him a mischievous smirk. Goodness, with this childish streak of his, he’s just like some of the kids at the orphanage…

“A-and you are?!” Crow screeches back, now on his feet and staring in disbelief.

The little guy pouts and sucks on his lollipop, frowning in un-amusement. Well, he should have expected someone to be surprised about getting his prison cell suddenly without any warning before the detonation, so that stare of his is invalid and they both know it, but neither of them is going to admit defeat, so they better get on with it as soon as possible.

“Sora Shiun’in, from the Resistance, pleasure to meetcha!” On that, he points to the red bandana he’s tied around his knee with his hand. “I was asked to free you so we can kick some Academia ass together. You’re with me?”

The fact this boy isn’t actually rotting in the ground doesn’t matter to him: he’ll have another moment later to ask him about that. Instead of questioning that and losing some precious time, Crow immediately rises his fist in the sky, new enthusiasm pumping through his veins, a grin appearing on his face and eyes sparkling again. That’s it: freedom’s back. He’ll keep his promise to Ruri, that way.

“Of course I am! Let’s show them who’s the boss and get all this crap done and over with!”

“Good, we’re on the same page,” Sora tells him before then looking back into the hole, feet already starting to move back to it. “Let’s get outta this stinky place and get on with it!”

A feminine, somewhat distant voice interrupts them by barging into the room, sounding somewhat panicked, but also oddly familiar to Crow. It can’t have been… Who’s he trying to fool? Of course he hopes it’s her.

“G-guys, wait for me!” the voice says as a hand, a set of delicate, slim fingers, appears. “I’m here!”

Sora jumps, suddenly remembering something as if he’s just realized he forgot to turn off the lights before exiting his place. He runs to the fingers grapping the edges of the hole he left behind him, giving a hand to who these belong to.

“Ah, that’s right, I didn’t come alone!” He grunts as he pulls something up. “A special someone really, _really_ wanted to see you, so we came to save you together!”

If Crow was surprised to see Sora crawl into his cell despite the Resistance’s intent on saving comrades kept behind bars, then he was beyond unprepared to see more than a familiar face. Appearing in the frame of the hole are two welcome, determined eyes and a presence he’s promised to see again.

“Ru… Ruri!!”

Sniffling, but smiling with her head straight with pride, she rushes off to him before he can, pulling him into a tight hug, prompting him to a put a hand behind her hair and ruffle it.

“Told ya we’d see each other again…!”

“Sorry again for giving you up the other day… I should have been more careful…”

“It’s nothing. What matters is that we’re both gonna be free, Ruri.”

Her arms relax slightly.

“Yeah…”

“I don’t wanna be a killjoy,” Sora appears back in their conversation, making them let go of their hug, “but we should flee the hell outta this place before we get caught. Just sayin’.”

“You’re right, let’s go,” she replies as she takes his hand. “Let’s get out of here one last time, Crow.”

He nods, smiling. This is the Ruri he’s wanted to see for so long: the Resistant, assertive and proactive, just like Yuto described to him with a pensive look and some red creeping on his cheeks. Seeing her being herself only motivates him further: this really is the final stretch. Soon enough, they’ll bring Academia to its knees and free everyone from a reign of implied terror.

They jump back out of the cell through the hole, guided by Sora. While his appearance doesn’t scream about his status as a former soldier, his expertise on climbing, including the instructions he gives to Ruri and him or the way he can do all of this without a single worry, were a sign that he took his training seriously once upon a time. Still chewing on his lollipop, he makes sure that they both arrive safely on the ground before putting fire to the rope he’s just used. He’s one clever kid, Crow can’t help but admit, even if he’s concerned about how many youngsters his age have been trained to become _soldiers_.

“I used to remind Selena to always burn everything in her stead so nobody could catch up to us. You’re never sure with the enemy”. He pauses. “I wonder if she’s done that in that labyrinth. I hope so”.

They walk away from the prison, slowly and stealthily, before calm comes back as they reach the Resistance’s territory. On their way there, they chat about a thousand different things, from Sora’s pranks on other soldiers, the kids of the orphanage and Ruri talking about her fellow Resistance companions, sparks appearing in her eyes whenever she happens to mention Yuto. He can already foresee Sora teasing the two parties of the relationship and Ruri’s reactions to it, either too flustered to properly reply or getting in with the flow. It could be either way around: that’s what so fun with getting to know people, you never really know how they’re going to react to one event or remark.

When they reach the Resistance’s headquarters, Crow realizes how much he’s missed going to this place, despite having known it for not that long and been away only for a couple days at most. He sees Sora play with the leader’s little brother, Kaito sticking with them only to make sure Haruto isn’t going to fall off from Sora’s shoulders, hardly hiding a smirk. He sees Ruri run to Yuto and wrap her hands around him, leaving a kiss on his forehead as she jumps, while he’s too busy processing what had just happened to react on time.

His eyes spot two persons he didn’t expect to see here rushing to his position, before one of them jumps on him and the other tries her hardest not too look too moved about seeing him.

“Crow!! Man, I’ve missed you so much!!”

“Yugo, don’t jump on people like that, geez…!”

“B-but _Rin_, Crow’s _back_!!”

“He’s been missing for what, a day? Two, maybe?”

“Psht, stop pretending, _everyone_ knows you were worried too!”

Rin joins their hug, unable to deny it any further.

“Ha… Welcome back, Crow.”

In the end, the latter leads the embrace, wrapping his arms around the two younglings.

“I’ve missed the both of you too. Glad to know you’re both doing well!”

They part from the hug to join back their headquarters, Yugo rambling about his day and Rin trying to place some sentences in there, elbowing him whenever he’s starting to speak too quickly or too loudly, only for the three of them to laugh together like they’re children all over again. It tastes like home even when they’re far from their actual cribs.

Rin gives Crow even more reasons to rejoice and hold hope for the near and far future. The orphanage has been doing great, with Martha taking care of securing the place for everyone living there and Yusei helping her do so, getting more and more financial and material help from Jack in the back of the entertainment industry (Yugo quotes several bikes as an example, a “nothing” for Jack, but he’s managed to get his hands on one and “won’t shut up about it, she swears” according to Rin). Knowing this also gives him a sense of security that he didn’t realize he’s always needed before that: he doesn’t want this revolution to end in a blood bath. He wants everyone to find a better life after the fall of the rotting bases, not destroy an entire part of humanity in rage.

Truth be told, Crow’s more of a pacifist than he’ll ever admit as a Resistant and looks far less forward to the fall of Academia than to the aftermath of it: peace, reconstruction, restructuration. Maybe his utopia isn’t just a dream, considering how many share the same vision of an ideal world; and it’s that possibility that intoxicates him. Perhaps it’s an unreachable hope, something even the tallest arms can’t reach, but it’s something he’ll try his best to get to.

For people like Sora, Yuto, Ruri, Yugo, Rin and Martha, he’ll try his hardest to make this world into a haven of peace, counting on everyone.


	35. Act XII, Scene 1: Backs Against the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ We need a miracle, to kill the pain inside. _

That morning, there was one question Selena had to ponder about: at what point had she gotten to know Shun so much that she could tell by heart what were his routines? She knew when he’d wake up, what he’d eat for breakfast (usually something very light, very easy, the opposite of what she was gulping down on every morning), that he preferred showering in the evening and that he was a light sleeper of all things. He’d get woken up by the slightest noises sometimes, from the door to the bathroom creaking to simply his own movements. It’d have amused her if he hadn’t always worn a scared expression on his face every time it’d happen.

That must have been why she had been so disturbed to wake up before he did, this time.

At first, she thought it was a normal thing. They had gone through room after room for God knew how long, traversing straining trials for the nerves and the body, to the point neither of them had much strength left when they reached their beds. However, after noticing neither the sound of her breakfast nor her shower had woken him up, she decided she was supposed to handle it herself and wake him up like she’d have woken Sora up, back in their old casern room. (The memories of that remained bittersweet, split between their genuine laughs and her grieving tears).

Shaking his shoulder gently and calling to him with a soft whisper of his name had been enough to get him to creak his eyes open, but she felt a rush of adrenaline right after her hand had stroked the edge of his head by accident, a sharp contrast to how sluggish Shun was to even emerge back from a not-so-deep sleep. If his routine had been this disturbed so suddenly, if her touch was to be trusted, if her worst nightmares about the situation had come true, then…

She crouched to his level and put the back of her hand on her forehead, then on his, and the results were as disastrous as she had thought they’d be.

Unable to face the indirect consequences of her own actions yet again, she got back up and contented herself to wipe the sweat on his face, without his spoken consent to do so, as she avoided looking at him. It, however, was difficult to ignore his glassy eyes, his shallow breathing and his slow movements causing him to hiss in pain.

“Shun, can you get up? We need to get out of here as soon as possible…” She asked, hoping he’d just nod and do as she said without uttering a word.

There was a deafening lack of verbal answer from him, but he sat up and coughed, only to grit his teeth in pain right afterwards. Man did he look _miserable_.

“Take your time, we’re not in a hurry. It’s not worth risking piercing your lung.”

Pretending to be fine with it was harder for her than she’d ever thought it was. Faking anything had never been her forte, like she had been forced to admit to her superiors at Academia, but pretending she was all fine with this when she could hear and see the infection developing inside of her friend’s lungs wasn’t any better than committing a crime against his trust in her.

They set off after a very long moment of almost-silence, only rhythmed by coughing fits trying to stop themselves and pained panting. How long it was, from a neutral point of view, she didn’t know, but it had felt like an eternity to her. Her impatience was getting a run for its money by her concern, blocking every question in the vein of “are you finished yet?” dead in her throat.

They didn’t talk when going into the next room. Why would she open the conversation when he could barely walk straight, wheezing instead of breathing to get his body functioning as best as possible, and when there was nothing she could have told him about? It wasn’t time for jolly stories and reminiscing about the past that wasn’t so glorious anyway. That time was over already and they both knew it: they’d soon be thrown back into a storm after a disturbed calm.

The next room was yet another blank, boring one with a screen in the middle. The door was in the background, closer to their side of the place than any other had been before it, teasing them with all its lock glory: the red light on top of it was a sign, reminding her of the countless other times she had faced locked doors either in this shitty place or in Academia’s corridors. What was the key to the enigma, this time, huh?

“…still haven’t found any money, huh…?” Shun noted before coughing, glassy eyes examining the screen. “Let’s… get to that screen…”

“Yeah…”

Slowly, to his rhythm, they walked up to the giant black square where she could stare into their souls. His posture was unstable and weak, trembling legs and arms, while hers was fiercer and more solid, albeit her hesitations and doubts were starting to show.

Twelve times. They had been in this situation _twelve times_ already. They still had no idea where they were aside from her hypothesis that this could have been a former research facility once upon a time, no idea what day it was or if it was day or night anymore, no idea if there was an escape out of this mess. But now, she was tired of the charade and he was injured and getting ill; they had no minute to spare and yet were forced to waste their times in card games and ultimately pointless discussions. Prisoners with an illusion of freedom, birds fooled into the idea that they could still fly, that was what they were. A status she kept rejecting with denial and ill-shouldered anger.

“What do you want?” she asked the TV, even in the odds that this would serve no use. Better snap at an inanimate object than at Shun by accident.

The screen turned on, but only to show Academia’s emblem and nothing else, reds and goldens and blues splashed into symbols on a black background. Aesthetics weren’t going to make this better, after all, so why would have they tried? Were they finally getting to the point of this mess?

Even if she didn’t want to listen to them, if not simply _hear_ this monotonous voice that had told her to get out of there if she wanted her freedom back, that had insulted them both in their motivations and pride, and had forced her to drag Shun through the mud to get them both out of there when they had to have known about the state he had been in at the moment. Yet, she forced her brain to tune in, because it’d be their only hint and only them could have known how much they’d need even the smallest or most cryptic pieces of information.

_This next trial will test your trust in each other._

Eh. Nothing new there. How creatively bankrupt were they, at this point? They hadn’t even bothered putting anything other than a TV screen in the room.

_FSN2, we entrust you, a former Academia soldier who has received the right education despite your rebellious choices, to choose for the both of you and take a decisive step in your journey through the Daedalus. You must have learnt your lesson, by now._

They’d obviously have to take all their royal time to unveil what next cruel surprise this’d turn out to be. And, as always, they had to throw a shade towards Shun’s faction of origin, whether it mattered in the context or not.

_FSN2, you will choose which one of you two gets to recover their freedom. The other will have to stay behind until something is decided about them._

…come again? Was… was that real? Had she heard that, for real?

_If, by the end of the day and by any chance, you have not picked one, you will both remain prisoners of the Daedalus until the end of your lives. _

That…

…That was fucked up beyond belief. Having to choose between Shun and herself, after having been forced to cooperate with him and having formed a bond with him that had been strong enough for her to consider him her dearest friend and for him to push through injuries? That wasn’t just cruel, that was downright inhumane! Who could have been merciless enough to merely throw away someone else’s life for their own good?

Sure, she wanted her freedom back. She wanted to climb back outside and defeat Academia, but was it worth throwing Shun under the bus? Was it worth backstabbing him and leaving him to die, him who was already starting to die from his injuries? No. Not after all of this, not when she didn’t want to consider separating from him and parting at this tragically monstrous point of their personal journey, a blank room and a screen telling them it was all over. No, instead, she knew the decision she had to make was the opposite way around from this…

She needed her freedom back, and she’d have never denied that fact, but he needed his _and_ immediate medical attention. Clearly, the most efficient choice to make was to give herself in, but on the other hand… She didn’t want to bow down to them. She didn’t want to do it. She wanted them to escape together, as impossible as it now sounded in her head.

“Leave without me, Selena.”

Shun’s voice, no matter how weak it was, caught her attention back to the room.

“B-but, it’d make more sense if…”

“Leave without me. You… we both know how… unlikely I am to make it outta here…”

He clutched at his ribs and coughed heavily into his other fist, falling to his knees in the process but getting back up right afterwards, slowly, fragilely, like a broken doll trying to string its damaged parts back together by itself.

“Don’t say that, Shun! I’m not leaving without you, not after all this bullshit!” Her voice was loud, perhaps too much so, heart burning with the fire scorching her thoughts and turning her survival instincts into ash. It was the two of them, together, or nothing.

“Stop being so stubborn!” He coughed again, not without barely avoiding choking on himself. “With some ribs shattered to pieces… and some other thing going on… it’d be laughable to think I could escape from here alive…”

He put his foot down and launched himself forward, eyes regaining that fury she had known to somewhat fear but mostly admire, staring right into hers with self-destructive determination. He had become a meteor, blinding with fire, hadn’t he? Again, he was nothing short of a soldier himself.

“Don’t you _fucking dare_ throw yourself away for this, Selena!”

On that, he collapsed on the floor again, this time close to entirely lying on the ground, hacking coughs coming out from his mouth. Dragged with him by the chains linking their wrists, Selena followed in his stead, his words echoing in the cavity of her skull, before getting herself back together and realizing this could have meant anything good about him.

“Shun, are you alright?!”

He gave her an almost timid look, a twisted open smile opening and closing in synchronicity with his panting, a trickle of blood going down his jaw from his bottom lip.

“’ve… pierced a lung… fuckin’ hurts…”

She froze up entirely for a moment, words unable to string themselves together coherently while her heart skipped a couple beats. The situation had gotten just even worse before her eyes: if she was about to give her life for his barely a minute before, she didn’t want the choice to be made for her by default.

“…’was glad to know you… Selena…”

He coughed out blood between painful wheezes, eyes close to being entirely shut, red splatters contrasting with the pure white of the floor. She didn’t dare touch him, by fear to end him off with just the press of her fingers.

“Don’t say thing as if you were already dead! We… we’ll find a way, I promise you!”

“…look around… there’s nothing…”

Even in her panicked state, mind assaulted by all sides by black thoughts, his whispers reached her ears.

“We both know it… Just face it… It’s over for me, Selena…”

“Don’t… don’t fucking put it that way…”

She wanted to bawl and cry like an infant for days. Days and days of just crying her eyes out until her soul would be numbed enough for her not to feel anything other than apathy. Getting this far, only for her to lose him right before her useless hands, was downright unbearable, if not plainly cruel.

They remained silent for a while, him coughing, her sniffling and drying tears that would eventually have to exit her eyes constantly blurred by liquid. At least, if her sigh didn’t work, she wouldn’t have to see him leave their world right before her, she wouldn’t be able to face head-on the misery she was indirectly causing and her own uselessness. And yet, even then, even when barely able to keep herself in control, words fatally dropped from her boggled mind.

“…in another world, I suppose I could’ve loved you, Shun.”

“…huh…?”

She put her knees against herself and wrapped her arms around them, pushing her feelings out of the door while she still could. It was stupid, so _stupid_, everything about this had been so cruelly _stupid_, but there she was, dropping her last truth bomb on him, whose face was gaining further red hues.

“Never mind. I…” She couldn’t look straight. “…I’m sure it’s happened already.”

“Why… now…?”

“I… don’t know, Shun. I really don’t. I guess you’d have wanted someone to tell you you’d be missed or something. I’m… I’m bad at words, okay?”

A nervous giggle, an embarrassed smile.

“I still don’t want to tell you goodbye now… It’s just too early to do so, we’re both so young and yet…”

Her fist smashed the floor.

“That’s just _bullshit_!”

Scalding tears finally poured down her cheeks, rage against the world unleashed, walls down and heart screaming its dolour out.

“I don’t want you to _die_! I want us to spend time together on the outside, out of this fucking hellhole and back in the world! I want to meet the Resistance, I want you to introduce me to them so we can all reform Academia for the better together, and I want to speak to Ruri and Yuto and everyone else! I want to invite you over, spend time playing card games and do other things, to talk about anything without feeling watched all the time! I want to see you during the day and spend nights together, not being unable to tell where we stand in the goddamn week! Why can’t they just let us be free and be us, together, as friends or as something else?!”

As she was busy burying her head inside her hands, burning arms wrapped her, slowly, timidly, incoherent breathing right next to her ears. She closed her eyes, unable to face reality yet again. Someone was dying on her _yet again_. Both of their voices were trembling, unstable for different reasons. Yet, even in the circumstances, her skin shivered under his touch. It was too late for remorse, was it?

“You’re not alone there, y’know…”

“…you shouldn’t be moving like this…”

“Who cares…”

“I… I do.”

Not that she _entirely_ minded being able to feel his heartbeats next to hers and pass her hand through his hair, drowning her sorrow and soothing her heart’s wounds in the signs that he was still here, even if just for a short while.

That wouldn’t be too bad of a send-off, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I slipped a couple references to "it's a little cold in paradise tonight", that fic is absolutely amazing and I recommend reading it, it was one of the (late) inspirations for BWI. This story really gave the tone for this anguished declaration of love.


	36. Act XII, Scene 2: Desperate Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ Something so beautiful, it keeps us both alive. _

_They’re near! They’re in the next room!_

A memory came back to her.

She saw herself as a child again, who’d always when commanded to do so or asked about by grown-ups and other kids, scream that Xyz people should have been burnt, killed or conquered, that they didn’t deserve their freedom. She didn’t quite understand the words that came out of her mouth, back then, not even doubting of their true nature that really wasn’t just some life lesson about not eating medicine if you didn’t need it (and always asking for someone else more knowledgeable than you on the matter, whether they pretended to be so or not). She was a child in a militarized faction, that was all.

“I’ll _always_ fight against the meanie Xyzes, Professor! It’s my mission as a daughter of Fusion!”

_How are you so sure about that? We don’t have a lot of them, so use them with caution!_

Another memory came back to her.

She was now a true soldier for Academia, an element of their ranks, trained to be the best of her kind, agile and effective, a few scars on her arms and legs as a keepsake of her efforts and experience despite her young age. Sora was by her side, winking at her. The rampant Xyz issue kept worsening, forcing her superiors to think of a new plan. This time, they’d send young elite soldiers to infiltrate their strategic positions like health centres to paralyse them at the source and guarantee the victory of the Academia cause.

“Soldier Tsukimori. It is but an honour to be assigned this mission. I promise on my life to fulfil it. Glory to Academia!”

_I saw it on TV! Believe me, they must be here by now! I know what I’m doing!_

And all that had brought her to today, but barely explained her current situation.

Her current self, a young woman who surely and undoubtedly now knew better, was doing the exact opposite of what she had been taught to do and say. Instead of taking pleasure in inflicting pain and enjoying the aftermath, she was now crying boiling tears with trembling limbs, sore eyes and a dry mouth over the dying body of someone that was anything but than a Resistant, a runaway criminal, a renegade and a prisoner condemned to death by the all-mighty Academia, all at once.

“Don’t say that, Shun! I’m not leaving with you, not after all this bullshit!”

_Here comes the moment of truth! Ready? Let’s do this once and for all!_

A sudden explosion sound immediately catches Selena’s attention back to reality, surprising her out of her own skin from the sheer suddenness of it. The powder of the shattered wall parts makes her cough and her eyes wet, putting Shun’s red scarf around his mouth in a reflex when she rapidly realizes it’ll be even worse for him, until her sight clears out.

Before her eyes stands the unfamiliar face of a young boy around her age, covering the bottom half of his face with a black mask and a red piece of fabric tied around his arm, right under his shoulder. He’s visibly bothered by the particles from the explosion to, but as soon as these let out, he tears off his mask and runs to her.

“Who… Who are you?!” she asks, in vain as she gets no answer back, already trying to find the least painful way for her to put Shun down and rise to her feet to fight back, the default battle stance already coming to her arms’ and legs’ nerves.

The latter barely rises his head to see the scene, but the faint smile she sees uncovered by his slipping scarf can only give her a positive message: whomever this guy is, Shun knows him and is happy to see him. She trusts his sense of judgement to break through any feverish delirium, so she slightly untenses her shoulders.

Behind the boy runs a girl whose face is oddly familiar, if not striking, to Selena: in fact, her looks are familiar enough to her to instantly recognize her own delicate features, sparkling pink eyes with a determined shine and a rebellious streak, serious but with a mind strong enough to pierce through the darkness of the explosion. In her hand, the source of it all: an unused Molotov cocktail, that she quickly throws in the direction of the camera in the corner before continuing her course in their direction.

Taking off her own mask, Selena has to face the fact her theory is true: this is none other than Ruri Kurosaki before her, accompanied by another Resistant (most likely Yuto, on second thought: those two are more than friends doing friend things platonically, according to her interpretation of Shun’s words on the matter). To that, the savour of her tears changes from desperate salt to bittersweet vinegar, her heart unable to take in the idea that they aren’t completely and utterly fucked.

“See, I was right…!” She whispers to Shun, or to herself, she isn’t sure anymore. “We’ll get out of this place soon…!”

Both of the intruders crouch to her level, silent, gently pulling him away from her to check for his actual condition. The concerned glances on their faces almost make her entirely mute, too ashamed to face the closest people to a friend she has betrayed: even if she never meant to, she still did it and left more than an indent in him because of it. The guilt’s bile has never truly subdued inside of her and it now threatens to pour all over her now that the course of events has made her unable to keep herself in check.

“I’m sorry,” she still says, forcing herself to at least address the elephant in the room.

Both of them then start staring at her, still silent, until they look at themselves next. Ruri speaks up first.

“You know, if my brother doesn’t hold a grudge against you, I don’t see why we should. You’re all good.”

She quickly looks at him, a little smile on her lips, before looking right back at the other girl in the room.

“Actually, thank you, Selena. Thank you for helping and protecting him as much as you could.”

“But …”

“Like Ruri said,” Yuto interrupts her, “we don’t hold anything against you. We know you’re on our side.”

He gets up and gives her a hand while Ruri holds Shun on her lap, her hand in his forehead.

“Let’s make the world a better place together instead, okay? We could use your help.”

Still somewhat haunted by her acts, but nonetheless determined to correct the shoot and become a better person herself, Selena takes his hand in hers and gets up, finally facing him at equal levels. That was before he looks away, reddening slightly from embarrassment as his eyes grow wider and he scratches the back of his head.

“Oh, right, you must be wondering who we are… We kind of rushed into things and forgot to introduce ourselves, haven’t we?"

“It’s fine,” she replies with a giggle making it out of her scorched throat, “I think I’ve figured out who you were anyway. Shun talked a lot about you.”

He shook his hands, the blush on his cheeks only slightly fading.

“It doesn’t cost us much to at least become familiar with each other. I’m Yuto, a member of the Resistance, and Shun’s best friend. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

As he shakes hands with her, the other girl gets up too, her brother’s arm on her shoulder and behind her back, both smiling in different intensities. Hers is, frankly, oddly bright and cute for someone who has just discovered her sibling to have gotten severely injured with an insult added on top of it.

“And I’m Ruri, Shun’s little sister! I’m glad to finally meet you in person, Selena.”

“Wait, what’s that about “meeting me in person”? And how do you know my name?!”

Ruri seems bothered by the question, or by how sudden and brusque Selena’s reaction is, judging by her frowning eyebrows and distorted smile, but nonetheless replies.

“It’s a… long story frankly, and I’m afraid we don’t have the time for this. Let’s speak about that once we’re all out of this place and enjoying some peace.”

“Sure thing. Where are we going?”

The two Resistants exchange a look, nodding in silence, then glance back at her.

“We’re going to attack Academia’s headquarters,” Yuto tells her. “It’s time for our final attack, we’ve defeated most of their forces until this point. It’d be amazing to have you in our ranks to guide us through the place and tell us more about the insides of their forces, Selena.”

“We went on a detour to rescue both Shun and you, so we’re late to the party, thus why we need to leave asap.”

“Got it,” Selena first replies, before a tiny detail comes back to her and her confidence wavered again. “Wait, is Shun coming with us?”

“Obviously…”

To their surprise, he actually manages to get back onto his feet from his sister’s support, until he collapses forward and Ruri catches him back,.

“I can still do this… ‘ve been waiting for this for so long, you can’t…”

“Shun, don’t be reckless! You can’t come with us in such a state!”

“Watch me then…”

“I won’t watch you do anything stupid!”

Shun grits his teeth and sighs before a hacking cough possessed him again, blood splattering out of his mouth as a result.

“…I’ll keep an eye on him. You two go.”

Both Yuto and Ruri stare at her in silence as Selena announces so, voice determined and stable.

“I’ll stay behind to make sure Shun doesn’t get himself in more danger. It’s the least I can do for him.”

“W-wait, Selena, I’m really not sure this a good idea…” Yuto’s voice is way more hesitant. 

“Let me take care of this.”

“Ruri…?” Yuto seems as surprised as Selena was to hear this coming from the third person in the room. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes. For the number of times Shun’s protected me before,” Ruri explains with a bittersweet smile on her face, “it’s my turn to pay him back for it.”

She then looks back into the other girl’s eyes, determination colouring her features as she drops the smile for what the latter can only describe as a goddess of war giving her orders.

“Selena, go with Yuto and the others. You deserve to finally see the outside world again.”

“…You’re sure you don’t want to join the battle?”

“Of course I want to be active and participate in it after being detained for so long,” the bittersweet smile comes back, albeit she’s looking at her brother instead, “but I’ve already done my part, I suppose. I swore to myself I’d free my brother from his prison and help the others at least in the beginning of our final assault, which I did and am doing. I’d have liked to do more, but I also think my place is by my brother’s side now.”

“Ruri…” Yuto mutters under his breath, before sighing and looking back at the former soldier. “Let’s go, Selena. We don’t have a lot of time to spare.”

“Sure.”

As they part, a groggy voice comes to their ears, prompting her to stop in her tracks.

“Wait, Selena…”

“Hm?”

“Gimme your hand…”

The next thing she sees is Shun taking off his scarf and putting it inside her palm before coughing and stopping himself from doing so. Despite the circumstances, he still shines the smallest smile at her.

“Take it with you…”

She nods back, adrenaline starting to kick in. She ties it around her own neck, trying to ignore how soothing his scent is to have right under her nose.

“We’ll see each other again, I promise.”

Before leaving, Selena gives them a last glance, nodding.

“We’ll be back. Good luck, Ruri.”

“Good luck to the both of you! See you later!”

With that, Yuto and Selena runs out of the hole, footsteps echoing in the air, just as gets got hit with a fresh, gentle freeze and the blinding, warming light of the sun. The outside world is finally embracing her again, hair brushing against the edges of her face and eyes quickly getting accustomed to natural lightning.

And what an ideal time to finally get their revenge on the ones who has stolen her away from the reality once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like switching tenses around.


	37. Act XII, Scene 3: Children of the Black Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ We need a little hope, tell everybody in the world tonight,_  
We need a miracle, we need a miracle 

Ruri doesn’t make it very far from the hole after the departure of her comrades for the enemy’s headquarters. Even with the physical training she has gone through before coming here and despite the adrenaline rushes, she can only admit that she won’t be able to get too far with her brother as an almost dead weight on her shoulders, her balance always shifting depending on the strength he can put in a footstep. They are slow, too slow in fact, but there’s nothing she can do against that and no way in hell that she’s giving up on him.

That’s just out of the question, now that they’re finally reunited, separated by neither a window nor a TV screen.

She saw the punch on screen. She helplessly watched Selena break her brother’s bones and break down in apologies afterwards. She’s now, just as helplessly, witnessing the consequences of that act on Shun, whose breathing keeps growing fainter, his skin pale with a red hue over it, glassy eyes and struggling limbs who can barely work anymore. She knows for a fact that he’s only able to somewhat stand because of his determination, or at least the part physically left of it, and the urgency keeps rigging in her ears: she has to bring him to actual medical attention if she doesn’t want all of his efforts to go in vain.

If she can just bring him back to their base, their temporary home on this large-scale battlefield, she’ll have done the most and best she could. It’s not that far away, truth be told, at least it felt like so when she walked from there to the Daedalus with Yuto; but comparing her previous pace to the current situation is like comparing bananas and oranges, fruitless and inaccurate by default. It isn’t time to be making these frankly lame comparisons either.

The fears on Ruri’s minds are piling up into a mess of anxieties and nightmarish imagery about her brother, their companions and everything that could go wrong. What would happen if he lost consciousness? She can’t possibly drag his body when he’s already in such a bad shape and hope he’d make it fine enough to be healed one day back to his former strength. She doubts she has enough force to carry him like a fireman too, so all there is left to do was to make sure he’ll still be walking. But how to do so? Maybe that…

“Shun, do you remember when you taught me to play cards?”

“…huh…?”

A delayed response, but still a response. Good. She shines him a smile, taking the occasion to make sure he isn’t getting worse. To her surprise, he’s giving this smile back to her, albeit minuscule and immensely pained. He’s still here, still in her arms, conscious and alive. It’s all that matters.

“I kept losing to you and it was annoying me. Trying to win against you was a chore, but when I did, it felt great.”

He lightly chuckles at that. “…I was sick that day, no…?”

“Doesn’t matter. I won anyway.”

“…you sure did.”

Ruri continues down the trail of memories: the afternoons spent playing, their adventures in the neighbourhood and even further, meeting Yuto, the day she had to tell him she had been dating his best friend for almost a year, Shun’s first crush and what happened there, embarrassing memories, endearing ones. She almost sheds a tear when evoking again the aftermath of their parents’ deaths in the hands of Academia soldiers, their true wake-up call for the cause. Ah, despite the context, it simply feels amazing to be reunited with her brother!

Yet, even with this little source of euphoria, she witnesses the evolution of his condition in fast-forward: first, he gets slower and slower, with responses first getting more and more delayed to the point she has to wait a full minute or so for him to reply; then words disappeared altogether for humming, as he runs out of air to pronounce them out; and finally no reaction whatsoever. That’s when she’s fortunate enough to come across a friend who’s taking care of providing resources to the fighters: finally, a light of hope in the dark corridor of despair and emergency!

“Sa…” Her voice is strained from speaking without drinking, but she hopes she can reach to her. “Sayaka!”

It only takes a couple pf long seconds for the designated girl to turn around and notice them, first with a smile, then with worry as she rushes in their direction.

“Ruri! Shun! Are you alright?!”

“I… I’m fine, but he needs help!

Sayaka doesn’t respond by anything but fumbled limbs at first, almost making her impatient, until she puts his other arm around her shoulders and shots her friend a much more certain look.

“Let’s get him to safety first, the medic’s tent is right over there!”

Ruri nods, gathering what’s left of her shoulders’ strength and going for the last stretch, the home run.

The following moments go by in a blur. Sayaka and she remain silent as they’re busy carrying her brother to the makeshift camp, both hoping to themselves it’ll be fine and suffice for now. Perhaps Sayaka doesn’t know about how bad the situation exactly is for Shun, and how could she blame her? She can’t have watched the show, considering the lack of TV the Resistance has been known for as to avoid being detected through wave emission tracking. They could never be too safe, so Ruri is the only one in the bunch with Crow to have known what unfolded inside the Daedalus’s walls.

“I don’t remember Shun ever feeling this warm…” Sayaka is staring at him, almost stumbling on a few rocks as she does. “His hands have always been cold…”

“It’s complicated, really, but we believe he’s getting seriously sick… It’s one of the reasons why we need to get him to safety as soon as possible!”

“Oh…!” The concern on her face increases tenfold but is quickly replaced with a nod and a determined shine. “Let’s do that then!”

As she expected, the tent is only meant for minor injuries and ailments: the looks on the medic’s face is only indicative of that. Ruri quickly thanks Sayaka for her services before the latter leaves for the frontlines, bowing to her in gratitude, before entering the tent herself to provide the nurses and doctors there with some context.

The air is heavy between the walls of fabric. Facing her is a brown-haired doctor examining her brother on the table, asking him a few questions and making sure he isn’t dead yet. Meanwhile, she’s sitting next to his nurse, a blond woman with green eyes and Synchro markings on her face. Come to think of it, the doctor himself also has those… Crow wasn’t lying when he told her he had gotten some of his people to join their cause and she was seeing the proof before her very eyes right at this moment. If the context wasn’t so bad, it’d be nothing but beautiful to witness.

“What’s your name, young lady?” The nurse asks her as she checks her pulse and her skin for any bruise.

“Ruri. Ruri Kurosaki. I’m from the Xyz Faction.”

“I see… My father is from the same faction as you are, but he got abducted by Academia and I had to live with my Synchro-born mother. Dr Stiles is the same, except his father was from Synchro and his mother chose to join his faction. That’s why we chose to join the revolution. I wanted to avenge my father’s years in captivity…”

“Oh, huh, okay…” No, really, what is she supposed to say? She may be better at small talk than Shun, but she still doesn’t know what the point of this conversation is.

“Ah, I’m rambling again… Thought it’d ease the atmosphere for you, you seem very stressed. I’m Nurse Angie. I’m Dr Stiles’s assistant and a Resistant like you. I assume the boy you brought is your friend or boyfriend?”

Now that’s just awkward… And that’s only now that she realizes she didn’t get the time to explain her situation to these fellows. Shoot.

“Ah, no, not at all! He’s my older brother, nothing like a boyfriend!”

Angie immediately starts radiating red.

“E-eh?! But you look nothing alike!!”

“…that’s also what my boyfriend said when we first met through my brother…” Despite her tone and embarrassment, Ruri still giggles. “Actually, a lot of people tell us Shun and I are nothing alike.”

“Well, huh… Sorry for assuming you were dating your own brother, then!”

This nurse is right. Chatting with her has made her feel easier, shoulders finally untensing a little. She feels safer here, as if nothing can go wrong ever again as long as she’s here. It’s obviously wrong, but she has to let her brain get irrational from time to time in order to keep her sanity. As long as Shun can’t comment on it, she’ll be good.

“Angie,” the doctor turns to them, the end part of his stethoscope still on her brother’s bare chest, “could you ask her if she has any info on his condition? We lack materials here.”

Angie turns to her, “so, Ruri? Anything of importance you’d know about?”

“H-hum…”

All the relief she could have felt earlier to that question has just gone into smoke.

“Well… I’m no doctor, so I can’t tell for sure, but we’re certain my brother got a couple of his ribs fractured after getting assaulted by someone in the chest. I’m also not an expert on symptoms or anything, but shortness of breath and shallow breathing are part of these for broken ribs, right? I… I also can’t explain why he’s getting a fever, but he’s coughing up blood, so it must be bad…”

Doctor and nurse stare at each other with pained expressions.

“I’m a surgeon, not a diagnostician, but…” He shots her a look. “Angie, you’re thinking the same as I am?”

“Broken ribs, punctured lung, developing pneumothorax and early pneumonia.”

“Alright, we’re on the same page then. We’ll have to transfer him to the nearest clinic.”

And they both turn to the scared teen filled with dread and terror.

“It’s soon the end of our shift there, so we’ll take him with us. Do you want to come with us, Ruri?”

To Angie’s question, the only thing she can answer with is a bold “yes”.

Before she can fully realize what’s unfolding before her, Ruri is sitting in the backseat of a little car, following an ambulance blowing its sirens to the world in hurry, with the doctor driving and the nurse on the same side of the car as she was, a hand massaging hers in small circles. It tingles a bit, albeit that isn’t a bad feeling, so she doesn’t comment on it and lets her continue without a complaint.

“You know, Ruri,” Angie suddenly says, “your brother is one of the strongest persons I’ve seen in a while, especially for his age.”

“What’s so surprising? Shun’s just always been a fighter. He’d argue with other children all the time when we were younger, usually to defend me from bullies or to protect someone else… Come to think of it, I don’t remember him getting into fights just for himself. He’s always liked a good competition and playing games, but never physically fighting. Considering the tough training regimens he’d often give himself…”

“He was still conscious, even after all _that_.”

Despite her light-hearted rambling (just something to let out some steam), Angie drop the words in a cold tone, eyebrows frowned and the little circles of her fingers having completely stopped.

“Your brother was barely breathing, but he was still doing his hardest to remain awake. He’d try pinching his own skin whenever an eye would shut on its own. He’s going to live, Ruri.” A pause. “With such a mentality, your brother is going to see another day.”

“Is that so odd?”

“Of course it is! He’s in an awful condition, yet he was still willing to fight for a cause, for his people. I know you’re worried, it’s normal to be concerned about someone dear to you who’s doing this badly, but I feel like he’s the kind of person who’ll survive what most can’t even imagine putting up with. I know I couldn’t, not as well as he’s bearing all of this t least.”

This still causes the smallest turn of her lips on her face.

“You’re right. Shun’s not going to let a few broken bones stop him. I simply hope he has enough strength to pull through it all…”

Truth be told, with her eyes focused on her dirtied clothing, tattered in dust and dried blood, and despite Angie’s reassuring words, Ruri is silently praying for everything to end up fine by the end of the day. She can’t have reunited with her brother to say him goodbye forever and until the next life, not in these circumstances; but nothing has ever been certain, even when she knows about everything of all the elements to be taken into account for such a situation.

Ruri isn’t tired of fighting: she’s only tired of being worried and feeling like she can’t be sure about nothing whatsoever, not even including whether or not she’ll lose a loved one today or tomorrow. So, unable to do anything about it, hoping the good signs she’s getting are true and aren’t life tricking her into a false sense of security, she begs the sky to let the children of the black blossoms live for one more day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally nobody asked for Trauma Center cameos but here you go, TC cameos. I may have written my own Angie for that purpose, though.


	38. The Thirteenth Hour - Rekindling the Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ She quickly stops staring at them: every time she looks at any soldier for more than fifty seconds, she sees herself back into her military shoes. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second-to-last "Act" baby. Hell yeah.

Following Yuto closely, Selena sees familiar corridors again with a whole other look. The tapestries, rich fabrics, regal colours and decorated ceilings don’t cause her to almost gasp in admiration anymore: instead, she stayed on her guard, the bitter aftertaste of her previous visions coming back to her. She’s grown to appreciate their sheer beauty, yet the heartfelt love isn’t here anymore: all that’s left is a neutered shadow of what it has once been, a nod to the question “is this pretty?”.

Because the lesson she’s learnt was that her people’s prestigious past mattered less than everyone’s futures, that it may have been falsified and modified with no way for her to fact-check most of what she’s been conditioned to believe with no question asked over the years, Selena lets go of her former self’s blind adoration. Maybe that, in this very element, she’ll have to thank the Daedalus for freeing her from Academia’s shackles.

“The others took care of most of the entrance guards and pierced through the first ranks,” Yuto explains as they walk to their destination, hearts pounding. “Having other double agents helped.”

“Wait,” Selena gets struck by that last bit, “you have _other_ double agents in Academia’s ranks?”

“Ah, yeah, you may not know that already. We have three of them, in fact. There’s a man who’s from the Pendulum Faction, another elite soldier who served as a guard from time to time, and yet another soldier who…”

“Yuto explains it very badly, but that’s me!”

A sudden voice jumps from the ceiling right before them. In a twirling jump arrives a little blue-haired boy dressed in shorts and a vest, a pendulum swinging around his neck and a red fabric tied around his knee. He’s supposed to be a ghost and she may be losing her mind.

“S-Sora?!”

As soon as she screams, the boy turns his eyes towards her, showing the exact same surprise in his eyes that resonated inside her voice.

“Selena, that’s you?! That’s, like, _really_ you?!

“Of course it’s me! Who else would it be?!”

He, that’s a hypocritical thing to say considering a hologram of him was what led Shun to believe she had fallen to her death, but he surely wouldn’t know that. Either way, she doesn’t care.

“Good resp— Eh?!”

Before he can add anything, she has squeezed him in her arms, slightly lifting him off the ground, trying to retain tears but with the biggest smile she has had in weeks. The time stops for a few moments, letting them rejoice in reuniting, before it takes its course again and they have to fight again, albeit by each other’s side, finally.

“How did… How are you even alive…?” She whispers.

“It’s complicated, really. I’ll explain ya once it’s all over!”

The questions she wants answers to kept piling up, yet she knows her priorities don’t lie there and that it’s fine to wait for them. They let out of the hug and turn back to Yuto, who has his arms crossed and frowned eyebrows, but still bears a little smirk.

“Let’s all win against Academia once and for all, guys,” he invites them to follow, hiding the impatience he must be repulsing due to the current circumstances.

They pick up from where they were, Sora explaining he just happened to be there because he was tasked with guarding the entrance back for outside help into the headquarters. The damage of the battle is right before their eyes, in these corridors that seem less and less familiar the deeper Selena goes down them. In the end, she can only realize with bitterness and watered-down disappointment that she’s been fooled all along, from the very beginning. She was constantly fed lies: most of these corridors are dirty and cheap-looking, even when taking in account the smell of blood and reddish smears sometimes decorating the place, a far cry from the luxury displayed by the rooms where speeches were held in and were the people deemed important by some pseudo-aethereal beings she’d never hear anything about were listened to, the luxury her eye was attracted to because it could have only been a translation into reality of Academia’s prestige.

Instead, these corridors are littered with dust and stains of whatever got spilled on the floor and walls. Some unconscious soldiers, still breathing but with eyes closed and vouched positions, are lying around the place, their uniforms all matching with blues, reds and yellows. She quickly stops staring at them: every time she looks at any soldier for more than fifty seconds, she sees herself back into her military shoes, her wrists and ankles chained to the walls.

Her shame is getting the best of her again until Sora picks her hand in his, giving her a smile but a serious gaze.

“Don’t think about that anymore. We’re all better than that, today.”

She nods, seeing in the little guy Shun and his determination to escape and save his sister, just like she saw Sora in the latter’s doings before. The cycle is closing in on itself, how fitting.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m _always_ right.”

“Yeah, sure,” she chuckles before looking back to the corridor.

The air feels heavy on her limbs and lungs until they join back with other forces, all wearing red somewhere on them. Sora immediately rushes to greet some of them, Yuto merely waving at them to do the exact same thing. She feels awkward facing them all as their supposed equal, as if she’s always been on their side when it’s only started being the case recently. She clutches the red scarf around her neck with her left hand, fingers trembling in a mix of adrenaline, anxiety and dopamine. It’s a cocktail to be wary about, although the circumstances don’t exactly allow for her to pay attention to her mental state for much longer than a couple seconds during calmer times.

“So this is the former Academia soldier you were talking about, Sora,” a male voice suddenly rises up from the crowd. Soon distinguishing himself from his comrades and appearing before her is a blond-haired boy, barely older than her, greyish eyes and dressed in blacks and whites, red around his wrist. Undoubtedly the leader of the Resistance as described to her by Shun. The way Yuto stands by him, arms crossed and serious face on, only conveys this vibe further.

“Yes!” Sora, bouncing from behind the man to be visible again, replies with enthusiasm. “That sure is her!”

The leader clears his throat and stares right into her soul with a piercing glare, not letting her even breathe for a second or two. If most of the leaders she’s ever had to serve looked nothing like those described as demi-gods in her history classes, this man is something else altogether: he has the aura, stance and panache of a war god, not unlike a son of Ares. She’s flabbergasted.

“Who are you, then, soldier?”

“Soldier Tsukimori of the Fourth Elite Regiment of the Fusion Army”. Standard salute. _Don’t show that you’re afraid._ “It is an honour to serve under your commandment”. Kneel down, left hand on the ground, right hand on the knee. Bow your head down. Wait for them to tell you to get back to your feet and up again.

“That… wasn’t what I meant.”

The deadpan in his reply scares her out of her posture, eyes facing disappointment straight-on. Following that, considering the heavier-than-lead silence and her embarrassment for having gone back into her muscle memory’s mechanisms, it could completely lock her like this for a little while. However, Sora starts shouting frantically in her direction.

“Just introduce yourself normally! Kaito isn’t gonna eat you, y’know!”

The leader’s façade cracks slightly, displaying annoyance at her comrade’s antics. Typical Sora, looking goofy when he’s actually helping all along, himself or someone else, because he’s unpredictable and unreadable, but she trusts him nonetheless. How could she not? They were all that the other had ever had for a few years.

“Excuse me for my earlier introduction. I’m Selena Tsukimori, a friend of Sora and Shun Kurosaki. I may have only recently joined the Resistance’s cause, but I’m not afraid to die for it.”

The cold stare turns into a smirk.

“I see. Can we trust you for anything starting from today?”

“Yes.”

“Do you swear on your life that you’re going to act for the freedoms of everyone, never to betray us?”

“Of course.”

“Welcome among us, then, Selena.”

While a grin was trying to take shape on her face, Yuto steps between them, satisfied about the way things have gone considering the expressions she reads on his.

“Selena, this is Kaito Tenjo, our leader. You can call him by his first name, he doesn’t like being called by anything else than that.”

“Got it. Now that introductions have been made, I suppose we can go for it?”

This time, Kaito himself replies to her question, catching both of their attentions.

“That’s right.”

This will be the battle she swears never to forget, so she quickly stretches and, with everyone else, rushes inside the building, grabbing the first weapon offered to her (a lightweight crossbow, huh). With fire burning in her veins, with her heart set ablaze, she knows it’ll be life or death, all or nothing yet again; but it’s the bet she’s willing to make, the one whose outcome is too important for her not to put all of her being into the fight, and the beats of everyone’s chests resonating within hers would overwhelm her if she didn’t join their battle cry.

Today or tonight, Selena will be a soldier for the right side for the first time in her life, she’s more than certain of this fact. Her strength will finally be put to good use.


	39. The Thirteenth Hour - Bittersweet Ambrosia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ Selena finds herself all alone, surrounded by people with jaw-wide grins and tears of joy running down their reddened cheeks. _

The battle was won right in front of her eyes. It was all crystal clear: Kaito shooting the generals in the shoulders, Yuto pulling punches and non-lethal knife slashes on soldiers, Sora slipping between the ranks and the cracks to sweep them back to the ground or allow someone else from the Resistance to continue forward without getting hit, her own arrows hitting their targets just right, sometimes just in time, arrows she kept retrieving and using again while trying to forget that would eventually cause blood poisoning for one of her victims. War knew no limits, this she knew already; but all casualties on the other side were soldiers she had once been a part of, some of her former comrades appeared before her and she just shot them while she was at it, as if they had never known each other.

They screeched her name, but her mind was numb, and imploring Tsukimori to come back to the right side of the battle didn’t work on her anymore, locking her heartstrings on place when they could’ve have easily been pulled would have their hands been delicate enough. Instead, she remained a soldier, pushing her individuality and personal feelings aside to win a decisive battle in a war where her own life was one of the biggest political stakes. This she knew, this is she willingly ignored: it wasn’t about her, it had never been about her.

She contributed to the victory, helping casualties to be retrieved to the camps, giving a hand to old and new comrades, realizing she had never had any true friend at Academia aside from Sora whom her eye was always closely paying attention to (she won’t lose him again, she swore in silence), and yet it still feels like a dream to her. She expects to wake up as soon as the end celebrations start, as soon as she can hug Sora and thank everyone for delivering even her own people, as soon as she can see how Shun is doing and apologize properly to Ruri for what she’s done to her brother. The feeling remains, lingering in her heart like a vine wrapped around her heart, even as she pinches her skin to remind herself that this’s all real, that all sweat and blood poured during the battle is an actuality and not just her mind playing tricks on her yet again.

No, the fabric of reality is full, not a hole to be seen: this is it. Academia as she’s known it is dying, on its knees, as Kaito pronounces its death and subsequent rebirth under the direction of its people rather than some reality-disconnected executives. It’s all finally over and yet she can’t rejoice because something’s nabbing at her consciousness enough to spoil the taste of victory. Maybe she’s lost her warrior’s vigour after all she’s gone through, disappointed in what fighting in an army stands for. Maybe it’s time for her to stop fighting, she’s just so tired of swinging a weapon at someone and watching blood pour already…

“Something’s botherin’ you, Selena”, Sora asks right beside her, popping in like she had been used to from him. She _still_ isn’t startled by this.

“How did you guess?” She isn’t even denying that anymore, how weak, how _brave_.

“C’mon, it’s written all over your face! What’s botherin’ you? You should be happy, y’know?!”

“…I guess I’m worried about something,” she admits. It doesn’t hurt to be honest with her closest friend, does it? Bottling up her feelings still won’t work, like she’s told Shun before. “I don’t really know what does.”

“Hmm… Can’t say I’ve got the slightest idea about that, ain’t in your mind and all. I’m feeling real’ good, but seeing you sulk like that sours the mood a little. You’re sure you’ve got no idea about that?”

“I… suppose I’m still worried about whether this is going to be the end of Academia as we knew it or not.”

“Ah, yeah, same. I feel like it’s a dream come true and that I’m gonna wake up right after the end of everything, as if this’d have been nothin’ but a sweat fever dream. That’s why I try to live the best of it so, even if it’s just a dream, at least I’ll have made the most of the it.”

“I also wonder if Ruri and Shun are fine…”

They both slip into silence for a moment.

“I’m gonna get Yuto real quick,” Sora suddenly says and leaves her there, without anything else given. What a weird situation…

Selena finds herself all alone, surrounded by people with jaw-wide grins and tears of joy running down their reddened cheeks, hugging each other, shouting how free they’ll be from now on as Kaito and a few others decide on where to take things before fully rejoicing in the war won, Academia unable to fight, beheaded by the capture of its leaders and the likely suicide of those who’ll keep their honour. She believes the Resistance isn’t about to get bought by the greediest of them, albeit her doubts are always risen at anything she isn’t entirely sure about. She’s only known these people for a couple of hours, even if the sheer intensity of those made her trust them almost entirely already.

Her loneliness doesn’t come from her different background, she can see it in Sora’s eyes: they’re bright with life, sparkling with an unspoken joy, breathing excited but never nervous anymore. She’s relieved, happy and satisfied too, but that feeling remains and sours her entire experience, a thought that won’t leave her mind yet will never let herself be cleared from the thick fog surrounding it.

Sora comes back shortly after with Yuto, the former looking as serious as ever, even though his smirk still remains. The hand on his chest slightly clutching the fabric of his shirt indicated he could be in the very same mindset plaguing her thoughts, reassuring her slightly in a selfish sense.

“Is there something wrong, Selena?” He asks her, eyes filled with nothing but compassion and relief. His gaze is almost entirely different than the stern one that introduced her to Kaito a couple hours before.

“Just one thing. I’m still worried about Ruri and Shun, even after all this.”

She’s kind of lying to herself and everyone around her about this.

“…well, mostly about Shun. For… obvious reasons.”

Her head hangs down, blue and purple strands of her passing before her face from her partially untied ponytail, when a hand touches her shoulder, with a firm yet gentle press, almost like the unconditional support Shun gave her during their last days in the Daedalus. Upon looking up, she discovers it indeed was Yuto’s.

“I feel the same. We should check up on them soon.”

This sentence alone makes her feel better, putting balm onto her heart.

“When will we be able to do that, though?”

Yuto’s smirk widens.

“Don’t worry about this, if we explain ourselves, everyone will agree. Both Ruri and Shun are important members of the Resistance, so everyone’s at least a little concerned about them not being with us right now.”

Selena almost lets herself be relaxed by this new information, but she remembers something else and the pinch of her heart comes back. Her eyes immediately turn to her friend’s green ones, his smile still showing, a lollipop showing through his teeth.

“Don’t worry about me either, Selena,” Sora responds before she can ask anything. “We can always spend time together later. I don’t wanna force ya to be with me if you’re not gonna be happy about it.”

She lets out a sigh of relief, almost showing up in her features, but retains her emotions in and keeps the stoic façade. He’d like her to stay strong without him, right? She’s won the battle, but what meaning is there to win something for him if he isn’t there too, celebrating? It makes little sense for her to be fully happy about it all, does it?

Yuto goes before her, inviting her to come with him through a little hand gesture. The softness in his features and gestures, compared to Shun’s, is a sight to behold, but she has no problem believing they’re friends when he’s willing to see both Ruri and him instead of rejoicing with everyone else.

As they left, he waves everyone goodbye, which she also attempts to do, although she’s still feeling more than awkward about doing so as if they always fought together when she barely knows these people. Leaving in silence is still the best for her, she figures, considering she’s never been good with words or expressing herself, that much she knows. At least, she feels like her presence is more welcome by her companion’s side than by the Resistance’s as a unit of persons.

She shoves her nose in the scarf around her neck and tries to convince herself that nothing bad could have happened while she was away, excited but anxious to reunite with him.


	40. The Thirteenth Hour - Those Who Carried On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ It’s never been about her, after all. _

Despite having just met, Selena and Ruri are already holding hands to reassure each other over the same person. Even with the air conditioning blasting in the hospital’s corridors, even with the sharp difference in temperature between outsides and insides, the air suffocates the both of them. Selena can tell that by the sweat pearling on Ruri’s temples and her unnatural panting, her reddened eyes from the tears she’s tried to keep in so badly, but that are now escaping on their own and flowing down her cheeks.

Selena wants to console her, because a girl crying is an afflicted girl who needed her help, but she’s herself weeping in silence and doesn’t know what to really say about everything that won’t stung the both of them even further.

Being so close to Ruri, almost head against head because both are more than tired of their day, allowed for Selena to take a break and ignore the smell of disinfectants poisoning the air around her and making her gag on her own. She can just smell the other girl’s hair to forget about it and remember what it feels like to be human surrounded by other humans.

Considering the frenzy in which she arrived there, almost getting lost in the corridors of the hospital and barely retaining herself from vomiting due to the smells overwhelming her, she’s thankful for a moment of relief, even if it’s a chaotic one, sunk in the cries of families, smeared with worries and sirens blasting in different distances, surrounded by people she doesn’t know but whom she can only empathize with now, and perhaps it’s also the other way around. She supposes the sympathetic eyes she’ll sometimes notice glancing towards them are more for Ruri, an uninjured martyr of the cause, than for her, a former soldier who slammed the door and never looked back. She’s no heroine, merely a soldier in a battle she fought on the right side after noticing the error of her ways. At worst, it makes her an opportunist.

Selena and Ruri don’t talk. Well, they don’t exactly stay entirely silent, but they’re far from having a real conversation, merely exchanging some words from time to time. Exhaustion isn’t just a physical thing: it affected their psyches too, especially in a context where restful silence simply can’t happen. It’s not like Selena has got anything more to say than describe how she hopes that their common source of concern will be alright, especially since Ruri doesn’t ask anything either. Maybe they aren’t meant to be friends, just comrades, and that she really does resent the one who hurt her brother badly enough for him to have landed on an operation table, leaving her to be an impromptu medic in a field she hasn’t seen before, _couldn’t have_ _known_ anything about before.

Yet, she thinks she should open the conversation, if not just to allow each other to blow off some steam while the wait makes itself excruciating, crushing her chest like her ribcage was made out of paperboard, opposing barely any resistance. Whenever something bothered her to the point of catatonia, she’d talk it out with Sora or Shun, or, if she didn’t feel like speaking, she’d just challenge them to a card game; but Ruri is most likely even more tired than she was, too much to duke it out while everyone else stares at them waiting for news they also don’t have and can’t possibly have gotten for them.

Surprisingly, Ruri’s soft voice, still plagued with sorrow, is the first to speak up.

“Is… Is Yuto alright?”

“He is. He told me he’d arrive soon after us, he had a few things to take care about before that and left you in my care, or so he said.”

She giggles, in a low voice, as if she doesn’t want to be heard.

“That’s Yuto for you… He thinks of everyone else before him. I’ve told him to think of himself first, that being selfish is fine sometimes, but he doesn’t really listen unless it’s about someone else… I don’t know if I love or dislike that about him.”

“You’re dating or something? I believe Shun mentioned that.”

She feels awkward using Ruri’s brother’s first name in front of her, but she also feels awkward using “Kurosaki” in front of another Kurosaki. That’s a problem with no real solution, and without a real importance anyway, on second thought.

“Yeah… It’s been a few years too, our third anniversary is soon. I’m glad we’ll all be free when we’ll be celebrating it. It’s like a dream I’d have never allowed myself to nourish hope for.”

Her eyes are shimmering, either with tears or with relief. Either way, and despite her tiredness, Ruri looks luminous, as opposed to her brother always looking stern and serious.

“But it’s also thanks to you, Selena. You’ve helped my brother make it out of there.”

Perhaps she’s too mesmerized or too tired to protest, but she nonetheless accepts the compliment with a shy “thanks”.

“…I shouldn’t be this worried about my brother.”

Ruri loses her tiny smile, instead putting on a frown. The sudden shift in attitude makes Selena wonder for a moment if she said something wrong, but all there was during the two sentences was silence, water in the desert amidst the cacophony.

“Ever since I was little,” the sobs come back, even if she can tell Ruri is making a conscious effort to erase them from her tone as much as possible, not unlike a little bird pretending to be a bigger one to scare its predators away, “Shun’s been there to protect me, even if I didn’t want it or insisted it was unnecessary. While I’ve always found it annoying, I can’t help but feel weird now that he isn’t here to do so…”

“From what I’ve seen of him, he should be fine, right?”

“That’s what I’m telling myself, but I can’t help getting worried… I’ve never seen him in such a state. He’s gotten himself injured before for a yes or a no, but this is on another level none of us have seen before. It’s scary how we’re all collectively worried he won’t make it, when we’ve all known how strong he is, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yeah…” She has nothing else to add, really. “I wish it didn’t have to turn out this way, but things are done and there’s no way back, right?”

“Absolutely right.”

They fall back into silence, the noise surrounding them slowing down until it’s nothing but a blur of wheels resonating in corridors and some voices fusing together into an untamed mess. The waiting room is emptying itself without any sign of life from the patient they’re anxiously expecting news about, letting themselves sink deeper and deeper into their own fears and anxieties, a vicious circle they can only break through if something happens, breaking the cycle and shattering its last bits by piercing through the walls they’ve built around themselves.

And that event is none other than Yuto’s eruption into the room, out of breath, rushing until he notices them in the corner of his eye. His presence seems to have woken the both of them up, the suffocating air just alleviating itself from their chests while the other people around them vanish yet again from their consciousness.

“Ruri, Selena, is everything alright?” He asks as he came to them, crouching in front of their seats.

“We’re still waiting,” Ruri replies as her smile comes back, even if only as its shadow. “I hope they tell us more soon…”

“You know anything about where they took him?”

“I don’t know where the surgery’s taking place per say, but I know who’s operating on him, because I’ve met them and they brought me here. I’d say my brother’s in good hands.”

“He better be…” He growls under his breath, before clearing his throat and going back to his normal self. “I’m afraid all we can do is wait for the time being.”

Selena doesn’t dare add that she’s fed up with sitting there and waiting for stuff to happen while she twirls her thumbs together, but what else is there to it all? Nothing. All she can do really is idling for something to happen, for someone new to come into the room.

It’s not like she can allow herself to take her frustration out on either of them. Neither Ruri nor Yuto are responsible for this fiasco, merely being the side casualties of Academia’s wicked plan, which puts the fault on her shoulders. She can’t lash out simply because, in truth, Selena has always been the one responsible for it, no matter how many times Ruri and Shun can tell her it’s not the case, that it’s fine, that they forgive her and that it’s never been her fault, somehow. Bottling up her frustration is the only way out, no matter how painful the ordeal is getting for her: it’s never been about her, after all.

Miraculously, that’s when something new arises to break out the short-lived routine of spending their time and thoughts on negative outcomes.

“Ruri Kurosaki?”

A peppy, but strained, female voice caught all three of their attention, eyes turning to discover it belonged to a fair-skinned, blonde-haired woman dressed in pink, bearing dark rings and sweat pearling down her temples. Her expression is frankly unreadable, as she looks mostly uncomfortable with whatever’s going through her mind and plaguing her stance.

“Yes?!” Ruri replies immediately thereafter, voice and limbs trembling, standing up as she does, legs suddenly re-energized.

The nurse (at least, Selena thinks this is a nurse? Must be a nurse) walks towards them with the answer they had been yearning for. Suspense rises one last time, questions hanging out from their mouth, alluring them to bite teeth first into it.

“How is he doing?!”, they all ask in almost complete synchronicity.


	41. Epilogue

Everything feels fuzzy, undecipherable. It’s nothing more than a blurry mess of pastels, whites mixing with blues and pinks. In a way, it’s almost like being like in a nursery, except the strong smell of disinfectants brings back not-so-faraway memories of bad experiences, those who sting the heart the more you remember them. They hurt, but everything else feels numb, so may as well cling onto these as long as nothing other than that makes him feel alive. If pain’s the only thing he can feel, then pain he’ll inflict upon himself.

And that’s when he wonders about the cliché question: is it life or is it what’s supposed to come after it? It’s a question he’s asked himself before, but considering he doesn’t remember ever passing away, or even passing out, this is weird. The last thing he remembers are distant screams from voices he wants to hear from again, voices he’s missed, voices he’s still missing…

Faraway noises come to him, distorted, unintelligible. They don’t sound like anything he’s ever heard before, until they clarify themselves and become mere people he cannot hear properly. They don’t sound familiar either, even if they keep improving in quality. Who are these persons, what are they doing here, where is he and what the hell happened while he was unconscious or, just maybe, when he was alive?!

The first words finally become tangible, understandable, to his hearing that undoubtedly got damaged by whatever he was doing before, feeling stuffed and jittering, their receptors having been hijacked by something or someone whose identity is as vague as everything else he could possibly think about right now. For a man who’s prided himself in knowing everything about his enemies, he sure is pathetically misunderstanding anything that gets sent his way by him or another entity altogether.

“Doctor, I think he’s coming back to us,” an unknown feminine voice comes to his ears like waves crashing on the shore.

Silence ensues, but his eyes finally focus and he can now distinguish two face-like shapes: a blond one and a brown one, tuning themselves each moment to unveil more details like glasses, yellow marks and, eventually, unveiled to a point where he can finally assert with certainty that those are, indeed, unfamiliar humans talking over his lying body. He’s more than likely still alive, unlike what his former doubts almost made him think merely moments before.

“Good, I was starting to get worried for him…” A male voice responds, associated to the brown-haired face, until his eyes covered by glasses glance into his. “How are you feeling?”

“…C’nfus’d…?”

He’s the most surprised to find out that he still has a voice to respond with, even if it’s groggy and sounded as ugly as nails hitting a chalkboard, feeling just like that on his vocal cords. It doesn’t help that his thoughts are but a swirl of shards dancing around his mind, bouncing against the insides of his aching skull. Come to think of it, a lot of his body hurts…

“Expected consequences of such a heavy surgical procedure,” the blonde goes on. “We’re just going to explain you some things before allowing in your friends, they desperately want to see you!”

Hearing about his friends, supposedly impatient visitors of his, bring back some pieces of his lost memory. He remembers vaguely talking to Ruri about their childhood habits, vaguely responding to Yuto about some plans, vaguely giving his scarf to someone. In a haze or in a subdued panic, he puts his trembling hand to his neck, only to notice it’s not there. That’s, eerily, not the only thing that gives him that uncomfortable feeling of being naked, vulnerable, his second skin having been forcefully removed by who-knows-who.

“To make it short,” the male figure picks up the ball, “I’m your assigned surgeon and she’s your nurse. We’re the ones who operated on you and we’ll be responsible for watching over your recovery in the following days.”

Recovery? _Surgery_? Does that mean he’s somehow made it out of the Daedalus? Are they on Academia’s side, are they about to vivisect him? If his body didn’t suffer from _rigor mortis_, he’d have jumped at their throat in self-defence, would have assured his safety before anything else. Instead, he supposes all he can do is glare at them with the gaze intensity of a wounded kitten. Must be very ineffective for what he’s trying to accomplish.

“What’s wrong, Shun?”

How do these people know his _name_?! Who told them?! Is he still not free from this hell?!

“Wha… happ’ned…?” is all that results from his sudden impulse of rage and doubt-driven storm of questions. The tone was supposed to be dry and cutthroat, but it sounds pathetic instead.

“We don’t exactly know ourselves, to be frank,” the nurse continues. “Your friends didn’t have the time to explain themselves, even if your sister tried her best despite the hurry she was in.”

Oh, that’s right.

“Where’s Ruri?!” He coughs out immediately after, finally noticing he’s wearing some kind of mask on his face.

His outburst, as weak as it was by his standards (does he even have standards?), surprises the nurse and shocks the doctor (nah, that’s a surgeon, the blonde’s said that before. Oh, who cares), so she’s the only one who tries to do something about it out of the two.

“H-hey, calm down! She’s doing just fine; she’s waiting outside like everyone else!”

His chest aches terribly and the environment is starting to swirl and tilt in a blur, becoming unintelligible, until he surrenders and goes back to a lying position. He doesn’t remember getting sick recently, so this feels foreign to say the least, until a vague memory of breaking something appears in the back of his mind. The weirdest about it isn’t the fact he doesn’t immediately remember the moment of impact, or the feel of the punch entering his ribcage at full force, with one eerie detail about it he fails to quite fully comprehend: the crazed stare of a friend whom he’s only recently met, yet want to spend most of his time with. Where is she? Where’s _Selena_, huh?!

“Nurse Angie’s right,” the doctor picks the conversation back despite his quickened breathing and embarrassment half-smile. “Your condition will force you to remain bedbound for a couple of days, I’m afraid…”

Oh, that’s just great. He’s managed to escape from a deadly labyrinth only to be stuck in what seems very much to be a hospital room. That’s just _fantastic_. He really needed to spend even more time in a place smelling like medicine and as white as the flash of a camera when he had done so for who knows how long. That’s an experience that he doesn’t want to hear about ever again, if he guesses it did bring him one good thing… One good thing that isn’t by his side right now because those two are here instead. Maybe that, if he behaves and replies when he’s supposed to, they’ll leave him be with the people he’s missing.

“And what’s that…?” Did he have a pipe shoved down in there before waking up for his throat to hurt so much? It’s like someone poured bleach in there while he wasn’t looking.

“Two broken ribs, another cracked, a punctured lung leading to a mild case of pneumothorax, and early symptoms of pneumonia,” the surgeon states flatly, expressionless. 

“Doctor, don’t put it that way!” The nurse screams at him, face reddened. “Anyway”, she clears her throat and looks back at the patient, “sorry for this, Dr Stiles isn’t the best speaker in this hospital. We meant to tell you that, yes, while you got seriously injured, you’ll be fine as long as you rest and follow our instructions.

“You’re a surprisingly tough one, you know? We thought we’d lose you on arrival, but you pulled through it. I’m surprised you didn’t lose consciousness when we were inspecting you before bringing you here to operate.”

Well he sure doesn’t remember them ever putting their fingers on him or asking him questions about whether he could breathe, so this is odd. He doesn’t remember having ever felt this lost about his own memories, adding onto the eerie vibe he’s getting from these two. Their Synchro marks on their faces are the only thing telling him he’s probably not in Academia’s claws anymore, what flimsy evidence.

“Anyway,” the nurse eventually says, “we’ll leave you be with your friends. If you need us for anything, don’t hesitate to push the orange button next to your pillow. We’ll check up on you later anyway. Take care.”

On this, the duo leaves the room, leaving him alone for a few moments. However, before he even has the time to take a deep breath and enjoy the tranquillity and quiet after all the commotion, a group of three others enters the room (_his_, actually), all quiet, as their footsteps echo in the fairly large space (huh, that’s a welcome change from how the rooms to rest were, now that he realizes that by looking around). They all have familiar faces, welcome eyes and warmth he’s missed more than he’d ever like to admit. He’s pretty sure he’s smiling, even if his lips feel lethargic and hard to move.

They split. His sister, whose reddened eyes indicate him that she’s cried not too long ago (he immediately hates it), goes to sit by his side, taking the place of the nurse that was there right before she entered the room. His best friend takes the other seat, holding her hand in one of his while her other wraps her fingers in her brother’s, making the latter notice the IV drip inserted in his wrist’s vein. It’s blood, judging by the red colour flowing through the pipe.

Ruri and Yuto look trashed, dark circles under their eyes and bawling bottom lips, but their eyes shimmer with relief and they both put their hand over his, a small smile making its way out. They’re all silent, because he can’t talk much and they’re probably speechless themselves to see him still here, still alive after everything, and seeing them bring him back his memories and something warm inside his chest, almost numbing the pain blazing there by impulses. Ah, he’s so _happy_ to be reunited with the both of them at last, without spitting blood despite the occasional coughing fit rattling his lungs…

“Happy” feels like a foreign concept to him, now.

His eyes glance around the room, only to notice the third person of the group isn’t coming over so soon. She’s standing with her back against the wall, arms crossed, eyes staring down at the floor or straight to the window bringing most of the light in. It seems to be the late afternoon or early evening, considering the orange hue of said light, but he doesn’t mind: it’s nice to see the passage of time, he’s missed seeing the sun rise and set. It’s good to be back, even in such a botched shape.

“Selena,” Ruri eventually asks her, “why are you standing there? Come with us!”

The other girl doesn’t reply verbally, but sighs softly and comes to his bedside, standing behind the chairs with a glance that won’t look at him, no matter what he tries to do. What has he even done to deserve that?

And it’s Ruri who also happens to open the conversation for real between the four of them.

“We’ve done it, big brother. Academia’s been overthrown and we’re working to reform it. The hunt is over.”

“It was a shame not to have you with us,” Yuto then added, “but we’d rather have you here and safe than dead in the corridors we fought in. I hope you’re not too bitter about it, that’s all.”

“It succeeded, huh… That’s what matters…”

Her sister’s hand squeezed his with little impulses as he coughed, suspecting the IV in his other wrist to have been injecting him with pain medicine considering how little he felt the thumbing scream of his bones.

“You don’t even know how _relieved_ we are that you’re alive!” She sniffled, trying to retain her tears in. “It’s a miracle that everything’s gone so smoothly, I’m afraid I’ll wake up to realize I’m back in jail… But it really is over! We’ve changed the world, big brother! All of us, and I’m excited to soon introduce you to everyone who’s joined us! There’s Crow, Sora, their friends… So many amazing people joined us and fought by our side!”

“They’re holding celebrations right now, but we thought paying you a visit was more important once you’d be fine. You scared us way too much, Shun, please never do that again. It’s time we stop being afraid for your life.”

Selena doesn’t say anything, still looking aside. Noticing this, Ruri pulls her hand down, untying it from Yuto’s, making her face him at last. As it turns out, Selena has tears in her eyes too.

“W-well… I think you know my stance on that…” She stutters, panicking on the inside, almost falling on his bed with only her hands to catch her in her fall.

He takes one of hers in his available one without any word, except a shy “thank you, Selena” that causes them both to blush at each other.

“…there’s something between the two of you, am I wrong?” Ruri remarks, a smile on her face, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

“W-what makes you think that?!” Selena spits with no real conviction, too busy trying to not look like she’s feeling targeted by the statement. It’s likely that they’ve heard her confession too, if he can remember it… It was a confession, right?

“C’mon…” He said instead. “You can’t hide in front of my sister… She’s busted us anyway…”

Yuto and Ruri start giggling as stealthily as possible, him doing a better job than hers at hiding, before they get joined by Selena in a moment where she finally lets go of the burden she accused him of constantly bearing on his shoulders before.

“You’re right. They know about it already, maybe more than we do.”

She looks on the side again.

“…if we’re even a we, that is…”

The duo between the two of them, tired of seeing this charade around, acts on their own: he witnesses Ruri take Selena by the hand, bringing them to his right while Yuto pulls out a third chair from the wall he’s directly facing, both of them sitting the third one down and putting her hand in his. He may be red from the fever he knows he still has (it can’t have gone anywhere, considering he still feels like his internal thermostat is all over the damned place), but that can’t have competed with the intense heat he suddenly feels invading his face, his eyes barely able to make contact with hers.

“What’s the meaning of all this, you two?!” Selena spits again, more in shock and embarrassment than real anger, redder than her own jacket.

“Unless you need privacy?” Ruri asks feigning ignorance.

In the end, Selena gives in, resting her head on her elbows themselves on the bed while holding his hand, slightly pouting before showing him the smile she had been keeping on the inside all along.

“I’m glad we’ve stuck together until the end, that we’re all still here. I won’t hide the fact I was terrified for you, but you proved to be resilient, didn’t you…? See, I told you we’d be fine if we gathered our forces.”

“Can’t go against you here… Don’t wanna either…”

One of her hand is on top of his, as cliché as it is, fingers gently tapping his skin.

“Tell me we’ll still be together even now that the war is over.”

“I don’t see why…”

Her smile gives in for a moment and she looks at him with frowned eyebrows.

“The Daedalus… Don’t I remind you of all the pain and misery we went through there?”

“I can ask you the same question, y’know…”

“You’re right, that’s stupid,” she eventually realizes. “We have more reasons to stay by each other’s sides because of this common experience. Let’s heal together, Shun.”

“I’m in.”

On this, Selena finally fully takes his hand in hers as time comes to a halt, the last beams of the sun shining through.

Surrounded by the familiar faces he’s missed and whom he desires to see more, feeling the gentle breeze from outside brush against his arms and rising his hair, admiring his sister and best friend lit by the natural light of the star in the sky and profiting from a new page turning with three persons to watch over, Shun realizes one thing that, until now, he couldn’t fully take in.

Today is the dawn of a new day that, he hopes, will mark the birth of the world he’s desired to see for so long, a world to build with his people, family and friends. He’ll put himself back together with gold thread and continue fighting for a better life because, as naïve as it may sound, this is the dream he wishes to nourish and see flourish, a dream to be built upon together.

In the end, this may be what he’s taught himself and Selena in the Daedalus: to lace their wounds and scars with gold thread, putting themselves back together constantly, relying on oneself and the other to make a change and overcome hardships. That is, if there _is_ something to get out of his experience.

For now, he’ll stop thinking and enjoy life for what it is. That’s the point of being as young as they are, now that they don’t need to be soldiers anymore. There’s a lot more to life than fighting, this much he realizes.

_FIN._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late because I didn't know what to say. I worked on this fanfiction for a little over a month.  
I still don't really know what to say. It was a ride to write and I'm relieved this is all out for the world to read. I know this is a very niche concept with a weird worldbuilding, yet conceiving the AU, slipping in a few cameos and thinking of how all puzzles pieces could fit together to form an interesting union. I hope I succeeded.  
I've ventured into a lot of other stuff since then and BWI was a nice side-project for the summer of 2019. I'll eventually come back to the BWIverse, absolutely, but for now, I'll leave BWI alone, standing on its own legs.


End file.
